No Escape
by iwantboromir
Summary: Someone is after Warrick, Nick and Greg. Warrick knows why. He calls on an old friend, Duncan MAcLeod to help him. Looking for reviewers! Final chapter is now up!
1. Chapter 1

Warrick Brown watched Greg head out with Sara on a new case with a disapproving frown. He did not like this new arrangement. He worried about the kid when he wasn't around to watch out for him. It had been easier when the kid had just been a lab rat. Except for the one explosion in the lab, Greg had been safe there. Warrick still blamed himself for that one. He should have been more careful. Greg could have been blown to bits and it would have been Warrick's fault. What kind of protector was he, if he blew up his own charge?

No one had asked him if he wanted Greg out in the field. If they had asked, he would have said no. He already had enough on his plate, keeping Nick safe. Protecting his best friend was a twenty-four hour a day job. It seemed if Nick wasn't out finding trouble, trouble came looking for Nick.

Now he had the added job of protecting Greg to contend with too. Between worrying about the two of them, he was giving himself an ulcer. He wondered if it was time to start training Greg in the defensive arts. He didn't know if the kid was ready or, more importantly, if he was ready to train him. Warrick had begun to worry that Greg might need them when Warrick wasn't able to be there with him. Warrick came to the conclusion that he needed advice. As soon as his shift was over, Warrick decided, he would make a much-needed phone call to an old friend.

It wasn't two hours later when he made the call. He could not postpone the call until after his shift was over. The indecision was bothering him so much and he couldn't focus on his work. Weighing his options, he decided that a couple of minutes on the phone meant less than an entire shift of half-assed work. He dialed the familiar number without thought.

The overseas call took a moment to connect, but it seemed like a lot longer. On the fourth ring, the call was picked up. "Someone better be dead!" came the deep rich baritone of his age-old friend.

Warrick gave a rich laugh. "Well, not exactly."

"Warrick?"

"Hey Mac." Warrick hadn't realized how badly he had missed his old friend until he heard his voice. "You really should work on your phone skills." Mac's voice was like coming home after a long journey. Memories of the past came flying back at Warrick.

"And you really should work on your time-telling skills. Do you know what time it is here? I was sound asleep!" Mac snapped back, but Warrick could tell there was no real anger in his words.

"I was just……needing a friend." Warrick admitted with a sigh. "How do you feel about coming to the states for a visit? There's…..something…..I would like you to see."

"Are you in trouble?" Mac sounded worried.

"No. I have been keeping my nose clean. I haven't been in the game in a long time."

The phone was quiet on Mac's end of the line. There must have been something in Warrick's voice that spoke louder than the words he said, for Mac didn't hesitate long before answering. "Okay, I'll come for a visit."

"Thanks Mac." Warrick hung up. Suddenly he was feeling as if maybe life was not as complicated as he was making it out to be.

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"Hey Warrick." Nick greeted as he and Greg entered the locker room. Warrick was fully dressed and pacing the small space between his locker and the bench. It looked as if he had been waiting for them. It had been a calm night and they were all getting to leave when the actual shift ended.

"Hey Warrick." Greg echoed, grinning at his friend, happy to see the man. Although the night had been simple, they hadn't had a chance to speak. Warrick had been acting sort of weird that last few weeks, but that was common for all of them with this job. "What's up?"

Warrick did not answer right away; instead, he watched as the two opened their lockers and started to change into their street clothes. He jostled the change in his pocket nervously until Nick looked up, his smile morphing into a look of concern. "You okay Bro?"

"You guys have plans today?" Warrick questioned hesitantly, causing both men to frown. Warrick Brown was never hesitant. Warrick had a seemingly calm, laidback type of demeanor, but anyone who knew him could see through the outward appearance. He was bold; he was intense but never hesitant.

"When? Now?" Greg shut his locker with a bang, causing Warrick to start. Both men frowned deeper upon seeing this reaction. Warrick Brown was definitely acting unusual.

"Rick?" Nick stood up. "What's up? What's going on?"

"I've got an old friend coming to town…..His plane is probably landing right now. I'd like you guys to meet him…..if you have the time."

"Who is this guy?" Nick pondered aloud," I've never known you to be jittery about anyone."

"Mac is……important." Warrick grimaced, unsure how to explain whom and what Mac was without going into details. He would explain that later. "I owe him everything. He's saved my life more times than I've ever pulled your butt out of the fire." Warrick finally explained with an embarrassed grin.

"Sounds like someone I'd like to meet." Greg piped up.

"Yeah, I think I'd like to meet this guy too." Nick agreed quietly with a nod. This was definitely someone he needed to meet.

"Great!" Warrick grinned, looking and sounding relieved. "Just show up at my place. I gotta get there, in case he got here early."

"That was odd." Greg murmured as they watched the man hurry out of the locker room.

"Yeah." Nick agreed. "Guess we better go check this guy out."

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He slid into the locker room where the guys were, careful not to be seen. Warrick was inviting the others to come over and he felt a twinge of jealousy at not being invited too. He was a friend too, right? Why didn't he get an invitation? Pushing those thoughts aside, he focused on his job. His job was to monitor Warrick Brown. This job here at CSI was just a cover. His real job was to report on every move of Warrick Brown.

This was his job. For ten years, he had been watching Warrick Brown. It wasn't a tough job. It wasn't even an exciting job. Warrick Brown did his job and he hung out with friends. Not too exciting. Six years ago, Warrick had given up gambling, so trips to the casinos were no longer on the agenda unless it was job related.

Perhaps that was why he'd broken the rules. The number one rule was not to be seen by the subject. He was not supposed to become involved with his subject. He definitely wasn't supposed to become friends with him. Nevertheless, he had. Warrick Brown was a great guy to know. He was a great friend.

The men rose to head out. He let his cool gaze follow the man in question. Another boring night, sitting in his car outside Warrick's apartment with nothing-special happening. Another night of watching shadows through curtains while Warrick entertained his friends, most likely watching sports. He wished he could join in, but instead he was destined to be an outsider. He had found that it was much easier to keep an eye on Warrick Brown if he was in the apartment with him.

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Another set of eyes watched as Warrick exited the building. These eyes were hard and angry. He'd been watching Warrick for a month now and he was nearly ready. Warrick was wea. His defenses were down. The man had gotten comfortable and cocky. He was easy pickings.

He leaned over the edge to watch Warrick make his way across the parking lot and smiled. Where was his weapon? Did he bother to look around for signs of danger? NO. He would be an easy target.

Tomorrow. He would attack tomorrow. It was almost too easy. The only time he'd seen Brown look tense was around the other two. He'd been alert and protective around them, but alone, Brown was vulnerable. This time tomorrow, Warrick Brown would be no more. He would be nothing but another notch on the hilt of his sword.

A smile of sheer evilness spread across his face. Once he was done with Warrick, he would get rid of the other two. There was no sense waiting around for them to become aware of what they really were. Better to eradicate them before they even became a challenge.

Yes, this was the way to do it. Slowly purge the world of all the weak and useless ones while slowly building strength. Save the fighting for those who actually took this life serious. Tomorrow. Tomorrow Warrick Brown was going to die!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I completely forgot to put one on the first chapter. I admit, I was just excited that I actually had something to post.. But you guys know I don't own any of the CSI's, right? I don't even own Mac, I stole him from another show. I won't name which one, cuz, that would ruin the surprise! I don't own Mac or any of his friends, I swear! I'm just playing with them, torturing them here and there, but I'll give them back when I'm done.

No harm, no fowl! cluck-cluck

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, throw me a bone, why don'tcha? There has been overseventy hits on chapter one, and only one review! Must I beg? Must I threaten that I won't post a chapter until I get more? (I've seen it done, gang!) Just a reminder gang; there is nothing better than someone taking the time to give you a review of something you've done. Good, or bad…..okay, just don't make me cry.

**As for the review: THANK YOU, nothing better than getting an email saying that someone has reviewed!**

Now, on with the show...

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"Mac's plane was delayed, so he's not here yet." Warrick announced as a greeting as he answered the door to Nick and Greg. Greg held a twelve pack of beer and Nick was holding a bag that smelled suspiciously like Chinese food. "Come on in, I was just watching ESPN."

The guys settled in front of the television like they had done a hundred times. Chowing down on the take out, slurping down beers, cracking jokes and arguing over sports. Warrick had relaxed except for an occasional glance at the clock, he was back to normal.

_"One day an employee came into work with both of his ears bandaged. His boss asked him what happened to his ears._

_"Yesterday I was ironing a shirt when the phone rang and I accidentally answered the iron instead of the phone!"_

_"Well," the boss said, "that explains one ear, but what about the other?" _

_"They called back!"_

Greg giggled as he finished the joke. Warrick and Nick chuckled along with him.

"Where'd you hear that one?" Nick laughed as he pushed the last of the sweet & sour chicken away from him.

"Archie and Hodges were telling jokes at the beginning of shift yesterday. That's the one I remember. Hodges actually told that one."

"Your telling me that Hodges has a sense of humor?" Warrick stood up, gathering the remains of the meal. Suddenly, he jerked towards the door, his attention completely focused on the door way. He grinned. "Mac's here!" He announced a full minute before a knock came at the door. He put the stuff back down and hurried to let the man in. Nick and Greg turned to look over the back of the couch, curious about the man.

Nick studied the man as Warrick answered the door. He wasn't as tall as Warrick, Nick guessed that he was about as tall as Greg but twice as wide. He was thick, muscular as if he spent a lot of his time working out. He wasn't one of those muscle-bound Neanderthal time of weight lifters, this man looked strong and tough like he knew how to take care of himself.

Looking past the muscles, Nick studied the newcomer. He was dark, most likely of Italian or Russian decent. He wore his long dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. Nick had always thought long hair on a man was too feminine. This man was anything but feminine. The look was good on him, instead of making him look girly, it added to his look of strength.

Nick wanted to learn everything about this man who made Warrick act so uncharacteristic. He'd never heard of this man who was suddenly so important to Warrick, yet here he was, watching his best friend hug this man. He'd thought he knew everything about Warrick Brown, yet here was a part of Warrick he didn't know.

He wondered where they had met and how long ago. This wasn't the type of friend he'd been introduced to in the past. This guy wasn't a fellow street kid, and he didn't look like someone from the casinos. Warrick had said that it had been a long time since he'd seen Mac. Nick guessed it'd been at least as long as he'd known Warrick, because Nick was sure…..at least, he hoped that Warrick would have introduced him before now.

Mac clapped his hand on Warrick's broad back. "Warrick Brown! You're looking good!"

"So are you Mac!" Warrick enveloped the man into another hug. Nick felt a twinge of jealousy spread through him. Warrick wasn't one to just hug anyone. You had to be someone special to get a hug from Warrick Brown. Releasing Mac, Warrick prodded him deeper into the room. "Mac, I want you to meet my best friends, Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders. Guys, this is Duncan MacLeod." Nick felt slightly better after being introduced as "Best Friend."

"Hi." Greg had risen and had worked his way around the couch. He offered the man his hand which was shook briskly. Nick followed suit, offering his hand quietly, sizing the man as they shook hands. Dark eyes, as dark as midnight, studied him as he studied the newcomer. Nick wondered what this man saw as he looked at him and if he measured up.

"Nick Stokes. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you." Mac grinned at Nick.

"I wish I could say as much about you, Mr. MacLeod." Nick swung an reproachful glare at Warrick, who looked slightly crestfallen at the accusation.

"Ok…..I haven't heard all that much about you." Mac admitted. "But, what I have heard was said with such admiration that it spoke volumes. Please…..call me Mac or Duncan."

"So……Mac, " Greg cut in, trying to slice through the tension Nick was causing. "Warrick says you've repeatedly saved his butt. Care to share a story? The more embarrassing…..the better."

Mac turned and gave Warrick a questioning look. Nick didn't notice much of a change in Warrick's stoic expression, but it obviously was enough for Mac. He chuckled lightly and shook his head. "Let's just say….a gambler is often lucky if he has friends with large bank accounts."

Greg pouted. "So, you work in bail bonds or something?"

"Antiques….I've just bailed him out from time to time."

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"I'm not sure what to say." Warrick felt the need to apologize to Mac after his friends headed home to sleep. Shift start was only hours away and they needed to get some sleep before they could work cases. "I don't know what got into Nick-"

"He's worried." Mac interrupted. "He doesn't trust me. That's good. He shouldn't be too trusting. He doesn't want to lose you, and he can't afford to right now."

"Nick?"

"Do they know?"

"No." Warrick admitted, sitting down on the couch, covering his face with his hands. "I know I should tell Greg….train him even, but……I just haven't been able to tell him yet."

"Just Greg?" Duncan frowned. "They both need to know! They both need to be trained! Immediately! Damn Warrick, they should already be trained. Just because you pretend you're out of the game doesn't mean the game won't come to you. You can't sit here, hiding from the game and leave them as sitting ducks! What if someone challenged you and you lost? What would happen to them? Did you tell anyone about them? No? Who would train them? Who would explain it all to them? Did you warn them at all? Did you tell them who to go to if you lose the game?"

"No one has come for me……Greg's safe for now."

Warrick disagreed. "I'll train him if you think it's best."

"Him? You need to train them both! I'll stay and help you get them started." Duncan paced the length of the room.

"What do you mean? Nick's not part of the game. There's no reason to train him. I'll have to explain some of it to him….but-"

"He is part of the game." Duncan snapped. "They're both part of it. They both need to be trained." He frowned at Warrick, before it dawned on him. "You don't see it with Nick? He's one of us. Or, he will be."

"Nick? He's not….."Warrick shook his head in disagreement.

"You seriously don't feel it?" Duncan studied his age-old friend. "You've got to know that he's one of us. Or, that he will be."

"No……I can feel it with Greg, from the first moment I saw him…..but Nick?" No! He's got a family. I've met his parents. He's got sis….five sisters! He's not like us, he has a family."

"Families adopt us all the time, Warrick." Duncan shook his head. "I was adopted. I didn't know it until after I entered the game."

"Are you sure….about Nick?" Warrick frowned, unable to believe it.

"You don't feel it? Not even a hint of protectiveness of Nick?" Duncan probed.

"Well yeah, but that's because Nick has a habit of getting into trouble." Warrick defended himself. "Just because I like to keep him safe doesn't mean that he's supposed to be in the game!"

"But he is, whether you want him to be or not." Duncan insisted.

"I don't see it. Nick can't be adopted. I can't tell him that he is. If he doesn't know that he's adopted and I tell him this….." Warrick groaned. "I can't tell him!"

"He's a grown man. He can handle it. Besides it would be better coming from a friend then from his supposed family as they disown him for being a freak of nature, like my family did." Duncan maintained. "He needs to be trained."

"What's the chances of finding two in the same place at the same time?" Warrick grumbled. "I know that odds, I'm a gambler. This can't be happening!"

"Tomorrow?" Duncan questioned, ignoring Warrick's moans. "You need to tell them. We need to begin their training."

Warrick sighed heavily and studied his friend. Duncan was not going to let him slide on this one. "Okay, I'll tell them tomorrow."

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He frowned as he snapped pictures of the man entering Warrick's apartment. He'd never seen this man before. Ten years of watching Warrick and this was the first time he'd managed to surprise him. He opened his laptop and quickly uploaded the pictures into the system. A moment later the computer beeped, having found a match. His eyes scanned the screen and widened with shock. Perhaps watching Warrick Brown was about to get interesting. Something was brewing if he was here.

A grin spread across his boyish face. All this waiting was about to pay off. Perhaps a gathering was brewing. He'd heard of them, he'd read about them but with Warrick as his assignment it had never been a possibility. But this man, this man was a major contender. He'd been involved in some major things. He needed to look into this more. He needed to contact the man watching the newcomer.

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He didn't like this, not one bit. Who was this man that came barging into his business? He was too far away to really get a feel for the man, but he knew what he was. He did not like it. He needed him away from Warrick Brown. He needed Warrick to be alone, weak and unprotected. This newcomer gave off a vibe that could only be described as power. He was not prepared to battle someone that had real power. He needed to focus on someone like Warrick, someone who had backed himself into a corner. Someone who deserved to die.

This man changed things. He couldn't very well go through with his plans until he knew who he was and what he wanted. Was this man here to kill Warrick? Would he take offense if he did? Would he protect the other two? This did not bode well for his plans. It made him angry and he didn't like to be angry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I still don't own anyone. If ya sue, all you can win is my imagination and that's a scary place sometimes.**

**A/N:This is my first attenmpt of intermixingtelevision shows, so bear with me if I screw it up.Okay, over two hundred reads and only 2 reviews?Can we try to double it for this round?I didn't mean to take this long in getting this one posted, butTPTB seemed to have a mind ofits own.**

"Where's Mac?" Greg looked around the apartment expectantly. "Chase him away already?"

"He stepped out to give us some time alone." Warrick explained. Nick was studying him as if he knew something was up. He'd been doing that all day and it was wearing on Warrick's patience. "Sit down Greg. Please." He requested tiredly. He was beyond tired. Sleep had eluded him after agreeing with Mac that the guys had to be told. He had spent the hours working over what he was going to say instead of sleeping like he should have done.

"What's going on Warrick?" Nick questioned as Greg sat on the couch beside him. Warrick perched on the edge of the coffee table, looking as if he was prepared to get up and run. "You look like shit and you've been tweaking lately."

Warrick frowned, noticing Nick was watching him worriedly. His right knee was jumping up and down, twitching nervously. He grimaced, trying to get it to stop by sheer willpower. This really wasn't something that he wanted to tell his friends. Although he'd ran it through a million times, there didn't seem to be a good way to say this. How does one tell his friends that their lives were just lies? How do you destroy all their hopes and dreams? To take what happy memories they had and smash them into the ground.

"Yeah, Warrick. What's going on? What's this about? You're not coming out to us, are you? I mean if your in the closet….or out of it… I mean…..if you were….it'd be okay and all…..but….."Greg flinched as Nick's elbow ground into his ribs and grew silent.

Warrick paled, green eyes widening as Greg's words sunk in. "Hell No!"

"Enough, Greg. "Nick commanded, frustrated beyond imagination. He was fed up with the odd behavior from Warrick. He was tired and he just wanted to go home and crawl into his own bed. Sleep was a good friend he missed a lot lately. "Warrick, just tell us whatever you need to tell us so we can get over the suspense."

"This is hard." Warrick grimaced. "you're not going to believe me. Hell, I wouldn't if I were in your shoes….."

"Warrick!" Nick snapped. "We can't believe anything unless you spit it out! What the hell is it? Are you dying?"

"Dying?" Warrick smirked. " No…..far from it. You see…..I've already died…..many times."

"What?" Both men echoed at the same time. This was not the type of thing you expected of Warrick Brown. Was it drugs? Was he losing his grip on reality? His two friends exchanged a look of confusion.

"I can't die. Well, not easily. I died a long time ago and became…..Immortal."

"Like a vampire?" Greg questioned, confused, but trying to understand. He hoped that it was drugs. Drugs were easier to kick than insanity.

"No. I'm not a vampire." Warrick gave the younger man a small smile. "But….similar." Reaching into his pocket, he brought out his pocketknife. Opening the knife, he held out his left hand, palm up. He slowly sliced across the palm, blood welled up across the palm as the blade cut into the flesh.

"Warrick." Nick reached out to stop him. This had gone too far if Warrick was mutilated himself in front of them. Nick felt that it was his responsibility to put a stop to it.

Ignoring him, Warrick held the injured hand closer to his friends. Their eyes widened as the jagged skin closed up upon itself. Warrick wiped the bloody palm on his pant leg and offered the now healed hand to them. Greg murmured something unintelligable and took the hand in his own. He ran his fingers over the blood smeared skin that had been severed a moment before.

"Whoa! Are you a magician?" He gasped in awe.

"No." Warrick shrugged. "I don't do it. It just happens. I can not die."

"You….can't….die?" Nick repeated dumbly.

"No. Not unless my head comes off." Warrick gave another pained smile. His friends continued to stare at him as if he were insane.

"But, you said that you've died before?" Greg questioned. He was struggling to understand, and failing miserably.

"Yes. I can die, but I don't stay dead. I come back to life." Warrick rephrased it, trying to make it as uncomplicated as possible.

"How did this happen?" Nick questioned, continuing to eye the hand that Greg was still examining as if it were going to suddenly start bleeding again.

"No one really knows. I was just…..chosen. I guess." Warrick shrugged. "I mean, there are theories like there are with all of life's mysteries, but no real proof to give them credence."

"How do you know this?" Greg released the hand, realizing that he still held it trapped in his grasp. Warrick hadn't said anything, but it had to seem funny, two grown men, holding hands. "I mean…. how do you know you can't die?"

"First clue was when I was still alive after being murdered." Warrick snorted. "Confused the shit out of me."

"Murdered?" Nick questioned quietly.

"I'll tell you that story later." Warrick promised just as quietly. "First, I have to tell you guys about the Game."

"Game?" Greg looked up from the pocketknife he had been examining.

"Yes….. I'm not the only one like me. There are others like me. Lots more. Some are good, some are evil….hell, there are some that cannot be classified as either. We're in a Game, for the Prize. We find each other. We fight. We kill one another."

"What kind of prize? What do you mean you kill each other? I thought you said you couldn't die." Greg questioned, putting the knife aside as if it were the cause of his confusion.

"Unless the head comes off." Nick supplied as if he understood and Greg hadn't been paying enough attention in class.

"Yeah, we cut each other's head off to kill one another." Warrick added. "It's all part of the Game."

"Rather violent game." Greg muttered. "What's the point, besides a prize?"

"It's not a prize…..it's THE prize." Warrick corrected. "The prize is…..ultimate power….. The winner of the game gets the prize……rules the world, or shapes the outcome of the world, at least."

"Why? What's the point?"

"Survival." Warrick sighed. "With everyone you defeat, you receive all his power, all his knowledge, all his skill." Warrick brought his attention to Nick, who was staring at the swords he had hanging on the wall.

"Those aren't macho decorations, are they?" Nick questioned, looking at the swords with new eyes. He had always admired them as decorations but now that he knew different, the beauty of the weapons had vanished. They now seemed dirty. The seemed to represent evil.

"No, those are part of what keep me alive." Warrick answered softly. "Keeps me around to play the Game again."

"You've killed?"

"Yes." Warrick felt nervous, waiting for his friend to judge him. He knew Greg would accept it before Nick would. Oddly, it was Nick's reaction that he worried about. "It's a deadly game. Kill or be killed."

"How do you know you're in the game? How do you know others are playing it?" Greg was full of questions and had no trepidation in asking them.

"We can feel one another, a weird connection…..like an internal alarm." Warrick felt comfortable answering the questions. He would much rather have the questions asked aloud instead of the suspicious silence coming from Nick.

"So, you feel this alarm go off inside of you and you start hacking at one another?" Greg continued, he was completely unaware of the tension building between his friends.

"No. First you find out if this person is friend or foe." Warrick explained. "At least, I do. I don't attack or kill unless there's a reason behind it or in self-defense."

"Who started this game?" Greg wanted to know. "Who told you how to play?"

"I don't know how it started, but I know it's been around since the beginning of mankind. My teacher, my mentor, taught me this. Just as we can feel one another, we can feel those who are destined to play the game. Some are teachers, they take those and teach them how to play the game, train them to fight."

"Duncan is your teacher." Nick declared, knowingly.

"Yes. He found me, not long after my original death. I didn't know what was going on, but he explained it. He trained me to fight….how to survive. Just as someone did for him, and someone before that." Warrick agreed, watching Nick for some sign of disgust or disbelief.

"Original death?" Greg prompted.

"From birth, we are just like everyone else. We bleed, we get sick, we love, we live. Then, when we die, by some unnatural cause, we come back to life, just as we are. I haven't aged. I look the exact same as I did when I first died. I cannot grow old. I cannot die. I've looked exactly like this for over one hundred years."

"You're saying…..that you're a hundred years old?"

Nick questioned, his tone disbelieving.

"Actually, I'm about a hundred and seventy….three. I'm not sure exactly. From what I can figure, I was born in 1833. I'm not sure."

"Why?"

"The thing with us Immortals is that we have no families. No past. We're all foundlings, raised by strangers and sometimes left to our own devices. When I came about, I was born as a slave. The master of the plantation brought me into the kitchen where the slave women were working. He handed me over to the cook, Lily. He told her to find someone to take care of me.

Lily took me into her arms, looked at me, with my light skin and green eyes, and assumed that I was the master's get. None of the slaves would accept me, so Lily took me as her own. I didn't get the chance to grow up believing that I was really hers. I was an outsider. Grams put up with a lot to raise me. I was too white to be a black man, and too black to be a white man. I represented the worst to both. I was a half-breed, hated by both races. But….that's neither here nor there. What I mean to say is that I don't know when exactly I was born….. Grams guessed that I was a couple months old when I was brought to her in 1833."

Greg and Nick sat quietly, staring at Warrick with new eyes. Warrick's head whipped towards the door, an odd look on his face. A moment later, Duncan came through the front door. He approached the group, taking in the solemn expressions and nodded. "You told them. Good, now we can get to work."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Still don't own anyone. Mac is borrowed from Highlander (for those who didn't immediately catch the name Duncan MacLeod) **

**A/N: Hey, I'm up to 4 reviews! Woo-Hoo! Think we can double it again? A special thanks tothose who reviewed, itgives me the motivation to go on with this story. I mean no harm in protraying Greg a little childishly. In my mind Greg is still the labrat Greg, eager to be with the guys. I don't like the straitlaced Greg that he has become since he entered the field, I like him a little goofy, so that's how I write him. **

**A special thanks to my beta LizardQueen44 and to the one who suggested this crossover Amberina20**

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At the unrelenting stare Mac sent his way, Warrick shrugged. "I've told them about me. What I am. What you and I are." Warrick mumbled, looking down at the floor like a disobedient child.

"Warrick," Duncan snarled. "Finish it!"

"Hey! That's uncalled for!" Nick came to his feet, hands clinched at his sides. "What gives you the right to come in here and boss him around? You have no right to yell at him like that!"

Duncan didn't look threatened by Nick. Instead, he looked at Warrick with an amused twinkle in his eyes. Warrick grimaced, flopping heavily into the wing chair. "Nicky, sit down. He's right. I have to finish this."

"Finish what?" Greg questioned as Nick returned to his seat huffily. "Is this an April Fool's joke? It's a little early….still a month to go-"

"No Greg, there's no joke. No punch line." Warrick answered tiredly. "I am Immortal. I am a part of the Game."

"So what's next?" Greg prompted as Duncan came fully into the room, carrying a kitchen chair to sit in. Everyone eyed Warrick, who looked to Duncan for help. When he found none in the man and sighed.

"What's next is that I need to train the two of you." He announced tiredly.

"Train us?" Greg echoed. "Why?"

"Because you are part of the Game too." Warrick explained, letting his words sink in before adding. "Or, you will be."

"You mean……if you were to shoot me, I wouldn't die?" Greg shivered. It seemed freakier to know you could not die than to know that you could.

"I haven't been planning on shooting you, but yeah." Warrick nodded, his eyes on Nick. His friend was frowning at him in a way that worried him.

"How do you know?" Nick finally asked, still fighting that any of this was true. It was bad enough that his friend was delusional enough to think he couldn't die, but why did he have to decide that he and Greg had the same ability?

"It's a feeling we get, sort of like that internal alarm I was telling you about. It's different, not as strong, but it's there with you guys." Warrick explained. "I wasn't sure about you, Nick. That is why I called Mac and asked him to come here. I knew for sure about Greg, but I wasn't sure about you."

Nick turned his attention to Duncan, who met his gaze casually. "Have you ever been wrong? Ever get a feeling about someone who doesn't actually join the Game?"

"The only way that happens is if you die of natural causes." Duncan answered. "Dying of old age has worked for some."

"Well, that'll never happen with you, Nick." Greg blurted out. He immediately received death glares from both his comrades. Duncan quirked an eyebrow up at him, his curiosity showing in the simple action. Shrinking back from the rays of death, Greg muttered. "Well, it's true. There's no way."

"Nicky here," Warrick drew Duncan's attention away from the younger man. "has a habit of attracting trouble."

"And yet, you've waited this long to train him?" Duncan scowled at Warrick in disapproval. Duncan's scowl was dark and ferocious. Even so, it was amazing how their tough friend seemed to shrink down under the other man's censure.

"You mean…..I wouldn't have died if you hadn't have found me in time?" Nick asked Warrick, sounding enthralled at the idea. Warrick didn't want to answer his friends' question. Duncan was looking at him with curiosity, unsure what the question really meant. Nick and Greg were looking to him in expectation. Only Warrick could answer the question and he did not want to. He stared down at the floor, trying to avoid everyone's eyes. "I would have…..wouldn't I?" the realization finally dawned on Nick.

"Over and over." Warrick swallowed roughly. "It would have been a never ending death…."

"Shit." Greg muttered as Nick sat back, pale and shaken. To think that he had faced a fate worse than just a simple death, but a continuing death caused him to feel sick to his stomach.

"Anyone care to clue me in?" Duncan inquired, looking lost and confused.

"Last year….Nick was abducted from a crime scene." Greg was the one to answer, sounding calmer than he really was. "He was buried alive. We almost didn't find him in time. He nearly died."

"Ugh." Duncan grimaced. "Not my death of choice. Waking up only to suffocate again and again."

"Sorry Bro." Warrick apologized to Nick as if it were his fault. He could still feel the desperation, pain and guilt that he had felt during the long miserable night. He wondered if he would ever stop feeling responsible for Nick's fate that night.

"Harsh." Greg lamented quietly.

"You've done that?" Nick questioned, looking at Duncan in a new light. The way he had explained it made it sound like first hand knowledge. "Sss-suffocated?"

"Yes……about three hundred years ago. I was buried alive. It's the second worst way to die, as far as I know." Duncan admitted. "It was the worst I've ever experienced."

"What's the worst?" Leave it to Greg, actually to ask that, Warrick thought belligerently. Duncan glanced quickly over at Warrick, but didn't answer. The quick glance was enough to tell the others that he had the answer. With a heavy sigh, Warrick answered in a near-whisper. "Starvation."

"Warrick?" Nick's voice trembled, whether from the possibility of his own near never-ending death, or the image of Warrick suffering from starvation, no one but Nick knew.

"Three months. I starved to death, over and over for three months. I was trapped in a mine cave in. There was plenty of air, but no food. I tried to dig my way out, but I was weak and as soon as I had made some progress, it would cave back in. I would dig until I was too weak to go on, and then lie there as I slowly starved to death, just to wake up and do it all over again. For three damn months, until I was dug out by another Immortal who could sense me." Warrick whispered. No one spoke as they all imagined the pain and suffering he had gone through. Irritated about being the object of everyone's pity, Warrick jumped up and headed down the hall.

"Immortality isn't as glorious and romantic as the comic books portray." Duncan murmured as the three men chose to give Warrick some space. Nick looked longingly towards where Warrick had fled, but didn't move. A man did not like to show weakness in front of others.

"Tell us about you." Greg begged, eager to change the subject.

"I was born in 1592. I am over four hundred years old." Duncan smirked at the shocked look on Greg's face.

"Man! Are you the oldest one out there?" Greg gasped.

"Not by a long shot." Duncan chuckled. "I have a friend who is thousands of years old. He's supposedly the oldest Immortal alive today. I thought he was a myth until I met him."

"This is deep." Greg murmured.

"I still find this all hard to believe." Nick shook his head. Getting up, he paced the room. "I think this could be some sort of group delusional thing."

"If he's delusional, how do you explain the cut on Warrick's hand?" Greg mused. "The fact that he was cut, but now he's not?"

"A trick. Simple as that." Nick shrugged, eager to find some sort of logical explanation. "Magicians do things like that all the time."

"Do you want something bigger as proof?" Duncan questioned as he picked up the discarded pocketknife.

"Yes." Nick decided with a curt nod. Some sadistic part of him felt a trill of pleasure at the thought of this man causing himself harm. Things were simpler before he showed up. Things were normal. Warrick was jus a normal guy.

"Okay. You just both have to promise not to freak out. You need to trust me." Duncan played with the knife casually. "Can you promise me this?"

"Of course." Greg nodded, having none of the doubts that Nick seemed to harbor.

"Go get me a real knife out of the kitchen. Sharp, please." Duncan requested of Greg, who eagerly went to fetch the knife. While he was gone, Duncan stared at Nick, waiting for his promise. "What about you, Stokes?"

"If Warrick trusts you, then so will I." Nick agreed, after a slight hesitation. He hoped that he had sounded more truthful than he felt. Greg returned with the knife and handed it to Duncan, who examined its sharpness and weight in his hand. With a nod, he looked at the two men as if trying to decide if they were going to hold to their word.

"Sit down please." He nodded to the couch and waited until they both were seated once again. "Warrick! Come in here for a second!" He called. "I need you to come in and help me for a moment!"

"I'm coming." Warrick called, coming up the hall. "Yeah?" He stepped into the room. No one saw Duncan move, but as soon as Warrick entered the room, he gasped. Looking down, Warrick saw the kitchen knife embedded in his chest and the blood spreading to the shirt he wore. Blood bubbled from his mouth.

Time seemed to freeze as the shock sunk into everyone. Warrick grunted, "What the Fuck?" a moment before he fell to his knees and then collapsed in a heap on the ground. At that, all hell broke loose. Nick and Greg were both on their feet. Greg scrambled over the coffee table to where Warrick had fallen. Nick leaped over it, throwing himself atop Duncan. They were both yelling, screaming and cursing. Warrick was lying on the floor, bleeding and gasping for air. Nick's fists were swinging as Duncan attempted to dodge him.

"Oh, God! Warrick!" Greg cried out as Warrick attempted to suck in one final breath before he grew silent and still. "He's dead!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: MINE, MINE, MINE! They're all mine, I tell you! Mine!**

**Why don't you believe me?**

**Oh...because they're not. sigh**

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**A/N: ****Sorry that it took me so long to get this installment out, I hadn't planned on taking this long. What can I say? Life…..happens, whether you want it to or not. I didn't get the feedback that I was hoping for when I left you guys hanging. So….I must be one of five things….. **

A: I didn't make his death clear enough

B: No one believes that I, of all people, would kill Warrick

C: You believe all that Immortality Sh-stuff.

D: Those that were upset, were too upset to leave a review.

Or

E: No one is reading this because it sucks!

Thanks to my new reviews. Every little bit of encouragement keeps me motivated to continue writing this. Let's go for 8 this round? Please R&R.

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"Warrick!" Nick screamed. His entire being went limp as the fight went out of him. His hands dropped to his sides as he spun to fall to his knees at Warrick's side. "No! No, no, no, no no!" Cradling Warrick's lifeless head in his lap, he fought back tears of despair. Turning hate-filled eyes to the man standing above them, he hissed. "You Bastard! I'll kill you for this!"

Squatting, Duncan did not seem too perturbed over the threat. "You promised that you wouldn't freak out on me." He accused quietly as he reached for the handle of the knife. Nick lunged at him again. Duncan caught his hands and held the attacking man off him. He made no other move to fight Nick.

"Don't! Don't you touch him!" Nick swatted his hand away and crawled back over to Warrick's side.

"I need to. Just let me remove the knife." With a quick fluid motion, Duncan yanked the knife out of Warrick's chest. The knife pulled out with a sickening slurping sound. Nick winced at the sound, tears clouding his vision. He could not believe that his best friend was dead.

"Warrick?" Greg whispered, sounding shocked. Nick didn't seem to hear the younger man, nor did he notice the twitching of the inert man's hand, as Greg did. A moment later, Warrick gasped loudly and jerked to an upright position. His breath was raspy as he looked around at his friends with wide eyes.

"What the Hell did you do that for?" He snarled at Duncan as his two friends stared at him in utter surprise. "That hurt like a son of a gun!"

"Your friends needed more proof. They didn't believe the little slice the hand trick you did." Duncan rocked back on his heels and stood up in a graceful action that would make a ballet dancer envious. He held out his hand to Warrick. Glaring at him, Warrick took the hand, allowing him to pull him to his feet. Nick remained on the floor where he had just been holding his friend's lifeless body. He was pale with shock as he now watched the completely alive friend argue with his murderer.

"This was my favorite shirt!" Warrick put his fingers through the bloody opening in his shirt that had not been there a moment before. "Damn it! It's ruined!"

"Warrick?" Greg stood up and touched his friend's chest where the knife had just been. The blood was still there, wet and sticky, but there wasn't as much as a flaw in the skin.

"Believe us now?" Duncan questioned sardonically.

Nick forced his trembling legs to move as he pushed himself up off the floor. He had to get away from these people. He moved to the sliding glass door and slid outside to the balcony. Taking deep breaths to control the raging emotions he looked out on the city. A moment later, he heard someone join him. "Nicky?" Warrick spoke out questioningly, his voice soft and gentle. "You okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Nick snapped, feeling an unexplainable rage at the man that he had been mourning a moment before. "You're the one that just had a knife protruding from your chest!"

"I'm sorry about that. Duncan shouldn't have done that." Warrick sighed, leaning against the railing; he too looked out at the city. "He thought he was doing the right thing. He wanted you guys to believe us."

"Well, I believe. I'm confused and scared, but I believe." Nick grunted, refusing to look at his friend who a moment ago, had been dead. "That's not something I would ever want to experience again."

"You get used to it." Warrick shrugged. "The worst part is being alone. You go through this life making friends, trying to do some good, try to make a difference in all this, and then you have to watch all your friends grow old and die. We'll watch Grissom and Cath grow old and die, but we will still be going on. Lyndsey will grow up, have kids and grow old. We'll outlive her and her children. I never would have wished this on you, but I admit that I'm glad you'll be around."

"I don't want that." Nick shook his head. "I don't want this. I just want to live a normal life."

"It's not something you can choose. It's there. It is happening whether we want it to or not. You will become immortal. You will be part of the Game. I've hidden from it…..for twelve years now, but it's still there, waiting for me, looking for me."

"You said that you die if your head comes off?" Nick turned to study his friend's profile. "Right?"

"Yeah." Warrick turned to face him, green eyes squinting as he tried to figure out what was going through his friend's head.

"Then, when I die, before I come back…..take my head." Nick announced. "Then I don't have to play the game."

"I could never do that Nicky." Warrick shook his head in disbelief and shock. "I can't kill you."

"I'll already be dead, it won't be killing me. You'll just be putting me out of my misery. Think about it Warrick! Am I really the type of person that would be good at this? Do I really have the stomach for it?"

"You can be." Warrick shrugged. "I didn't want to be a part of this either. I still don't, that is why I hide. That's why I avoid the Game as much as I can. But, you can do good in this world. You can make a difference. That's why I do what I do. I solve crimes, I put the evil away."

"Doesn't it get tiring?" Nick questioned with another heavy sigh. "I'm already tired and I'm only making it through this life. I can't imagine going through life after life."

"I didn't want this either. I wasn't a warrior of any kind when this happened to me. I was weak and scared. When Mac found me……after my original death…..I was paranoid….nearly crazy. I wasn't really human anymore."

"You said you were murdered. Can you tell me about it?" Nick questioned softly.

"I was a slave, all my life. I'd accepted that. Being hated by both sides, kind of kills all real feeling. I was an outsider, but I had a warm bed and a roof over my head, so I was okay. Grams made sure of that. Then the war came and we were freed. I didn't have that roof or the bed anymore, but I had Grams……and I had Rose."

"Rose?"

"My wife. She was the one person besides Grams that accepted me and didn't judge me for the color or shade of my skin. She was sweet and good. Lord, she was beautiful." Warrick smiled sweetly at the memory. Nick could tell that he was seeing Rose before him, in his mind.

"We were free, but the white men still owned us. They owned the land we worked. In their minds, they still owned us." Warrick grew angry as the memory of Rose faded away. "I had a little piece of land that I was struggling to work. We ended up owing more than I made, but we were free."

"What happened Warrick?" Nick suddenly realized that he probably did not want to know. This was something that had made Warrick the man he was today. This was going to explain the lost, pained look that sometimes came to Warrick's eyes.

"A group of white men came one night. Drug Rosie and me out of our bed. I fought them, but I was no match for them. They held me down as they took turns raping my wife. My sweet Rosie……when the last one was finished, he bashed her head in with a stone, then they shot me. They left me for dead. I lay there, bleeding out, and could do nothing but stare at her body."

"But you didn't die?" Nick whispered with a shiver.

"Oh, I did, but I just didn't stay dead. I woke up, Rosie was still dead. I was completely healed, not a mark on me. I don't know how long I held her, crying. Eventually, I got up and cleaned her up. I buried her…..my sweet Rosie…….and then, I ran."

"I spent the next year, living in the woods, hiding from everyone. I was even afraid to approach Grams. I was afraid that she would see me as the ogre that I was. I didn't want to have to deal with her disgust of me. I began taking my revenge on any white man that dared to come across me. Then, I had a strange feeling that scared the shit out of me. A man approached and I could feel him."

"Duncan." Nick surmised.

"Yeah." Warrick nodded, wanting Nick to see how good Mac really was. He could tell that Nick did not fully trust Mac, especially after this last stunt, Warrick thought as he fingered the torn material of what had been his favorite shirt. Warrick wanted Nick to like Mac. It would be a good thing if Nick had another, older and wiser Immortal to go to if something should happen to him. "Mac had been passing through and had heard the talk of the monster that couldn't die. He understood what I was and came in search of me. It didn't take much for him to find and corner me. He had lived with a tribe of Indians for many years, he can track anything and I didn't make it all that difficult for him. Half-crazed that I was, it took more effort to get me to listen to him. He promised to help me and I eventually believed him. It was nice to hear that I wasn't alone, that there were others like me out there. He was heading to San Francisco, and took me with him to train."

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They were gathering, that was all there was to it. He had waited too long. He should have attacked sooner instead of all this waiting and watching. Warrick Brown had been weak and unprotected. His friends had been dumb and untaught. Untaught, they would be easy targets. He needed to finish them off while they were unprepared, before their training began. He needed to attack before they had the knowledge and strength to protect themselves.

He understood who this newcomer was now. He was the teacher, the master. Warrick was getting prepared to start training the two mortals. His time had run out. He had to finish them off while they were still mortals. He had to do it now! Warrick Brown may have been out of the Game for years, but this newcomer had not. He needed to think, his plan had to change. He couldn't kill Warrick first now, the newcomer would protect and train the others. He had to get to them first, then worry about Warrick and the teacher before they knew what was going on.

His eyes lit on one of the mortals as he came out on the balcony. His eyes glittered brightly as he took in the state of emotional distress the man emitted. A scowl came upon his craggily face as his foe joined the man. Lifting the binoculars that hung around his neck, he took in the blood on Brown's chest. The pansy had given them a demonstration. "Shit!" He threw the binoculars, only momentarily irritated as they shattered into pieces at his feet. The time of waiting was over. He had to strike now!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hmm, begging for reviews doesn't seem to be getting me anywhere. 0! 0 reviews last chapter. I'm really not feeling the love, gang! Oh well, according to my stats, you are reading this and I've even been put on peoples favorites. This chappy is aslow one, butwe've got a little action coming up in the next one. I have to do a little tweaking due to some imput from one of my betas.Until then...**

"This is a lot to ask of you to believe." Warrick sighed as they came in from the balcony. He felt better having told Nick a little about his life. He had felt like he was lying to him over the years. In some ways, he had been, but not in the things that really mattered.

"Yes, yes it is." Nick agreed. He could tell that Warrick was feeling relieved at unburdening himself, but he was feeling worse. He was trapped between believing and wanting to call the funny farm for his friend. Somehow, his doubts were making him feel as if he were letting Warrick down. "And I'm sorry if I'm not taking it like you would like me to."

"There's no right or wrong way to take it. I guess I have gone about this the wrong way. I haven't made it very easy for you. I should have told you guys a long time ago. Well, you at least. I'm worried that Greg won't be able to keep it a secret, or that this will cause him to take risks that he normally wouldn't." Warrick admitted with reluctance.

"Is this kid always like this?" Duncan questioned, drawing their attention to Greg who was sprawled out on the floor, asleep. "I swear he was asking a question and suddenly he stopped and was snoring. He hasn't moved since."

"That's Greggo for you." Nick smiled, looking down at the prone man. "Runs full-steam ahead, and then stalls, no matter if he's on the tracks or not."

Warrick nodded, grinning down at the man who was sleeping so soundly at their feet. He was using a couch cushion as a pillow and his jacket as a blanket. "He can sleep anywhere. We think it's the coffee he drinks. We suspect it has some special ingredient that causes him to drop like this when the caffeine wears off."

"I'll take him home." Nick offered, bending down to roust the man.

"No, leave him." Warrick stopped him before Nick had a chance to wake the younger man. "In fact…..Nick…..why don't you stay the night here too? I've put a lot on you tonight; I would feel better if you stayed here. You can take my bed, Mac has the spare, sleeping beauty has already bunked down. I'll take the couch."

Nick gave him a long probing look before he agreed. "Okay." Warrick was still acting strange and it worried Nick. How much more can he spring on them? Nick knew something else was bothering his friend, but Warrick wasn't ready to tell him about it. There was something else that was causing the look of worry in those green eyes. After all he had learned tonight, he was not about to ask for more information.

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He watched the lights in the apartment slowly taper off and frowned. No one had left. That was fairly odd. Sure, they'd tied one on from time to time and ended up passing out at one another's place, but this was a work night. They weren't the type to get shit-faced on a work night. Something was off and he figured it was somehow due to the man who had shown up. He'd spent the last hour reading about Duncan MacLeod and he'd learned enough to be wary of the man. From the reports of his previous watchers, Warrick was a friend of MacLeod's, but that never truly meant anything to those playing the Game.

According to MacLeod's file, there were long lists of friends that he had beheaded. Sure, it looked like there was a logical reason behind each and every battle, but MacLeod didn't seem to find it hard to take a friend's head. This made him very nervous about this Immortal being here. What did MacLeod want with Warrick? Why were Nick and Greg involved? He wanted to know the answer, yet he was afraid to see it.

He continued to wait until long after the last light went out, just in case someone was just slow in leaving. No. Greg and Nick were both still there. Probably all sound asleep, he thought belligerently. He yawned; it was time for him to get some sleep too. Starting his car, he slowly drove towards home. He would be getting a call from MacLeod's watcher soon enough, and perhaps he would have some answers to all these questions.

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He let out an angry growl when the lights to the apartment went out. They had screwed up his plans once again. He had decided that tonight was the perfect time to make his first move. Whichever of the mortals came out, he was going to put an end too. They would not have been expecting anything. He would have already finished off the second on before Warrick and his friend would have known anything.

How did they know he was out here waiting? Anger boiled in him. He'd done this so many times before and nothing like this had ever happened. This group of prey was becoming troublesome. He had done his homework. He knew them, knew their routines. How had he managed to pick the exact time Warrick had decided to give his underlings a clue?

It didn't matter. He would get them anyway. They could not stay protected forever. Tomorrow, one of them would be away from the security of the others and he would get him. Tomorrow, one of them would die. He didn't really care which, as long as he got to spill their blood.

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"What's going on in that head or yours, Warrick?" Duncan whispered after Nick had disappeared into Warrick's bedroom.

"Don't really know." Warrick shrugged as he yanked the extra blankets out of the hall closet. "Just felt a bad vibe about them leaving. Maybe it's just because you are here, but…….I feel nervous. I feel like there is danger nearby. I feel like I'm being watched." Duncan made a face, ever so slightly, but Warrick caught the look. "What? You know something that I don't?"

"Well, yeah." The big man shrugged. "It's just…..a few years ago….I found out that the Game isn't all that secret. There are those that know about the Game and us. They were the actual secret society. They've made careers out of watching us….keeping track of us. Keeping score."

"Keeping score?" Warrick whispered as he carried the blankets into the living room, dropping one lightly onto Greg, who snorted once before curling into the blanket. "As in, who we've killed, who we've fought?"

"Yeah. We each have a Watcher, someone who is assigned to you, keeps tabs on you. They have quite a database. They pretty much know who is good and who is evil. Who you have fought, whom you have loved. Where you are. Whether you're currently in the game."

"You mean to tell me…..I have a stalker?"

"Yes, in a way." Duncan shrugged. "Most likely it's someone you know or you've seen so much it just seems natural to have him or her around all the time."

"How'd you find this out?" Warrick leveled his gaze at his life-long friend. He was suspicious and he did not like this.

Duncan was silent for a long time. He was silent for so long that Warrick was beginning to think he wasn't going to answer, or had not heard the question. "I found out when Darius was killed."

"Darius is dead?" Warrick gasped feeling a keening pain in his chest. Darius had been a great peacemaker, for both Immortals and mortal man. There had been a time when the darkness of life had taken over Warrick, and Darius had helped him overcome it. He knew the same had happened with Mac. Someone actually killing Darius was unthinkable. "How? Who?"

"Renegade Watchers, called Hunters did it. On Holy Ground."

"So, they're out to kill us?"

"No, not really. Just that small group was. We stopped them in time, We think." Mac grimaced, as he said this, he watched Warrick's eyes narrow and darken in anger.

"Who exactly are 'We'?" Warrick hissed.

"My Watcher and myself." Duncan had the gall to look embarrassed. "I met him…..he's a friend. A good friend."

"So these men kill our greatest peacemaker of all-time and you become buddies with them?" Warrick was breathing heavily, fists clinching, as he grew angrier.

"Joe wasn't involved with that. In fact, he tried to stop them when he found out. Nearly got himself killed."

"I don't get you." Warrick spat. "Darius was our friend! You just sat back and took this? On FREAKIN' Holy Ground!"

"You don't have to. Just trust me about Joe. I'll have him look into your Watcher. You know, make sure you're safe around this guy." Duncan offered. Warrick did not answer; he simply shook his head and looked disgusted. "Just trust me Warrick."

Duncan watched as his friend fought an inner battle with himself. He could see that Warrick was torn between trusting him and wanting to get revenge on whomever it was that had killed Darius. He had felt the same thing. He had wanted to hurt someone, to ease the pain of Darius' loss. It had taken the realization that Darius wouldn't have approved of revenge to get himself under control. Warrick must have come to that same conclusion, because he finally nodded, the tension leaving him. Without a word, Warrick walked away. It was not until he was across the room that he replied.

"I trust you Mac, but I will never trust your Watcher-friend.

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**Any guesses on who the Watcher is?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Wow! This is a record amount of posts for me! Three! ****Thanks so much! Good guesses on who the Watcher is. Of course, I'm not telling ya if yer right or wrong. Notgiving it away for a few more chapters. There are a couple of clues here and there. Keep those thinking caps on!**

**(A bit of violence in this installment and some potty-mouths. lol()**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own the CSI's or Duncan. I do own the bad guy...but he's starting to look a lot like an actor I know... Oh well, on with the show!**

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8

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"So, is this why you've been so protective of us?" Greg questioned as the three men entered the locker room.

"I don't want any of my friends to get hurt. I treat you no different than I treat any of the others." Warrick's tone was quiet and reserved. "Let's save this conversation for later, huh Greg?" He looked meaningfully at the other occupants of the room. As if knowing they were the topic of someone's attention, Archie and Hodges looked up.

Archie gave a small wave of greeting. Hodge's natural scowl turned up into a snarl. "Only Hodges could make a snarl seem like a friendly greeting." Warrick thought to himself. With a snort, he turned his attention to his locker contents. He really wasn't in the mood to harass Hodges as he normally would have.

Warrick was jittery and he didn't like the feeling. He had nearly growled at Gil when the man handed out assignments. For some reason, he didn't want Nick nor Greg out of his sight. He got his wish with Greg, Grissom had assigned them to the same 419, but Nick had been given his own 419 with Catherine across town. Warrick didn't like that. He didn't have any way to explain himself without seeming completely off his rocker to everyone involved.

Unable to explain the irrational fear to himself, much less to Gil, he'd had to hold himself in check. He'd muttered to Nick to watch himself, but there was nothing else he could do. Nick had given him an easy-going grin and brushed his worries off. Nick was tired of being spooked by the shadows. He wasn't going to do it anymore. He wasn't going to let his best friends reservations affect the way he lived his life.

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8

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Warrick was acting strange. The watcher thought, watching the man in question bustle Greg out of the lab. Warrick was being surly and irritable, which, for the most part, was unlike Warrick. The only time he was like that was when he was being pressured, like a tough case. The watcher hadn't heard of anyone having a tough case, so he didn't think that was the problem.

He'd gotten an email from Joe Dawson, who had promised to get back to him as soon as possible. Dawson had assured him, that as far as he knew, Warrick was not in any danger from MacLeod. The watcher thought that was a weird comment from a fellow watcher, although it did relieve him somewhat. A watcher wasn't supposed to care whether his Immortal lived or died. They were supposed to be impartial, only there to document.

He had heard about Dawson. Dawson was a rule breaker. Not only had he become friends with MacLeod, but MacLeod knew who he was. He knew what he was. They had even worked together on some problem Immortals. Because of these actions, Dawson was not very popular in the Watcher ranks.

The Watcher understood Dawson's reasoning's. He knew Warrick was a good man, mortal or immortal. He respected him as a man, as a CSI and as an Immortal. If push came to shove, he knew he would help Warrick out, even if it meant disgracing himself as a Watcher. If he had to chose between his career as a Watcher and his friend's life, he would chose Warrick. There was no doubt in his mind about that.

He suddenly was eager to talk to Dawson. Perhaps he could get some pointers on how to help Warrick out, should the need arise.

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A sly smile spread across his face as he watched Warrick and the kid climb into the Denali. Who his victim would be was now clear. He let them drive off without another thought. His thoughts were focused on the third one and what he would do to him. Should he make it quick or play with him a little while? Stab him? Shoot him? Slice and dice? No matter what, there would be a lot of blood.

He watched the man come out of the building with the sexy redhead. He liked her. He had seen her with Warrick. Warrick liked her. He would have to use her. He would hurt her and perhaps leave her to tell Warrick about it. That would be fun. He hadn't toyed with any of his victims in centuries. Yeah, this was going to be fun. He started his truck to follow the smiling pair. Soon, he would be the only one smiling. He could taste their fear. His mouth watered for the taste of their blood.

This was going to be fun!

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Nick climbed out of the Denali at the crime scene. Catherine gave him a quizzical look as they dug their cases out of the back. She'd been giving him those looks since they had gotten their assignment. It was growing old and he was getting tired of it. "What is it Cath?"

"Just curious about what's going on with Warrick. He sort of lost it earlier. I've never seen him…..so pissed at Gil." Catherine hedged, hoping that Nick would explain it to her.

"He's just….." Nick shrugged, trying to figure out a good way to explain it. "He's being excessively protective lately. He thinks he needs to baby-sit me." Nick felt a little embarrassed and mentally vowed to get even with the man for causing such an uproar.

"Yeah but why? I mean, I expected it last year, but he had abandoned the Superman act. Today…..was beyond that. You and he… You're not…… You know…."Catherine seemed to blush, which was not something Catherine Willows often did. "You're not doing the Brokeback Mountain…..thing? Are you?"

"Oh God!" Nick nearly tripped and dropped his case. "Shit! Cath!….. Oh, God! No!"

"Good." Catherine grinned and Nick saw that she had only been trying to get a reaction out of him. He had been gullible enough to let her ruffle his feathers.

"You're heartless." He hissed before turning to where the officer was waiting for them. Catherine's soft laughter followed him. With everything that he had learned and experienced the past 24 hours, he wasn't in the mood to be heckled.

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"Don't you think you overreacted just a little bit?" Greg probed as he and Warrick made their way to their own D.B. Warrick didn't answer with words. His glare was enough to get Greg to lay off. Greg pouted slightly, he hated being in trouble. No matter who it was, they always seemed to get irritated with his non-stop questions. Everyone, except Nick, Nick didn't get irritated with him. He would just give him a grin, answer the question and wait for the next one. But that was just Nick.

This was Warrick, who had patiently taught him how to be a good CSI and had now vowed to teach him to be a good Immortal. Upon waking this morning, he had been full of new questions about immortality. Warrick had given him one of his cool Warrick Brown looks and told him that after work they would begin the training.

This whole thing intrigued him. To think that he wouldn't die and he would spend the rest of eternity battling others for the right to control the world. It was like some science fiction show on television. Something Archie would watch. It was cool and it was scary at the same time. As he thought about it, he realized that this explained a lot about the way Warrick Brown was. The way Warrick never seemed to be surprised at what life dealt them. The way he seemed so intense and laid-back at the same time.

"Start working the scene." Warrick barked quietly. "I gotta make a phone call and then I'll join ya."

Without waiting for an answer, Warrick wandered away, his cell phone to his ear. Greg guessed he was calling Nick, which would only make Nick irritated. Nick did not like to be babied and felt that he did not need to be protected. Greg watched as Warrick spoke into the phone. Nick, or whoever was on the phone, wasn't giving him the answers he wanted. Greg decided to get to work, so Warrick would have no reason to take out his displeasure on him.

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This was perfect. His prey was in plain sight. The woman had disappeared into the house with the friggin' cop, leaving his prey alone. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Slipping closer, he slid between the cars of the cop and the investigators. The man had his back to him. This was almost too easy.

Pouncing forward, he had his knife to the man's throat before the man knew what had hit him. With a swift, practiced move, he threw the man to the ground. His breath flew out of him at the impact with a sharp grunt. His quarry flopped around, as if trying to find purchase, but he was too quick for him. He had the knife to his throat and a knee to his chest, holding him down.

"Wha?" The victim grunted. "What do you want with me?"

"To kill you, of course." He boasted, he felt a tremor of fear in the man below him and enjoyed it. "I want to make you hurt. Make you bleed. I want to bleed until it sucks every ounce of life out of you. I want to see you die. I want to taste your blood!" He could smell the fear emitting from his victim. This was a good feeling, causing such fear in someone else. He slid the knife across the man's jaw. Crimson blood beckoned to him and he leaned down to lick it up with his tongue.

"You sick fuck." His victim grunted in disgust.

"Nicky!" The woman screamed from behind him. In his excitement of grabbing the man, he had forgotten about the woman, and now she had alerted the cop. He would have to deal with them before he could play with his victim.

"Damn woman!" He growled, jumping to his feet. He had to deal with the others before he continue. He slamming the knife into the man in order to hold him still. It was just enough to keep 'Nicky' occupied while he dealt with the screeching woman. He spun to face the charging woman as he sensed another approaching. This was not how he planned it!

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**Don'tcha hate cliffhangers? TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So leaving you guys with a cliffhanger is what gets those replys? Too bad I don't have another one for this installment. (Except for the fact that the Watcher is still not revealed.)****The general concensus is that Grissom is the Watcher, but I'm not saying if that is right or wrong.**

**As for Hodges being the bad guy...no! I couldn't do that to my buddy Hodges. **

**Well, thanks for hanging in here with me. I seem to have a pattern going of posting on Sundays and Thursdays, so I'll try to keep with that. Until then...don't lose your head.:)**

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Greg held onto the dash with one hand and his seatbelt with the other in a vain attempt to stay steady as Warrick drove like a lunatic. His ears seemed to burn from the steady litany of curses that spewed from the man's mouth. Obviously, Warrick's extra long life had given him an extra long vocabulary of curses.

Normally, Greg would be awed by this ability of oration. If he weren't currently scared shitless by Warrick's driving, he would be enjoying himself. He'd never known Warrick to drive so erratically, as if he didn't care if they made it to their destination in one piece. He would be more impressed if he wasn't so worried about Nick.

Exactly what Warrick had feared had come true. Someone had attacked Nick. Someone had tried to kill Nick. According to the frantic call from Catherine, Nick was all but dead. Which was why they were rushing to the hospital.

"Wh….What happens if he dies?" Greg finally stuttered.

"Then the Nick Stokes we all know and love is gone. He disappears. He can't come back to Vegas for at least fifty years. Until long after anyone who might remember him is gone. He starts a new life somewhere else. He trains as if his life depends on it, because…..it does. His life will be about the Game from here on out."

"This is why you wanted to tell us?" Greg had to ask. "Because you knew this would happen?" Much to his relief, Warrick's pressure on the gas lessoned slightly.

"No, but I just…..had a weird feeling. A bad vibe." Warrick had subconsciously slowed the car from supersonic to racecar speeds. Greg was grateful of this little respite. He decided to keep him talking for their own safety as well as his curiosity's sake.

"Where will he go?" What will we do?"

"If he dies, we have to get his body and remove it before he comes back."

"You think we can?"

"I've done it before. First death takes a lot longer to recover from than what you saw with me. He'll awaken in the Morgue, most likely." Warrick explained as he turned onto the road that led to the hospital.

"He'll be freaked. Good thing you had the chance to tell him about all this."

"I should have told you both a long time ago. I should have prepared you both for this….This is my fault."

"No. You can't be with us at all times. We're grown men; we should be able to take care of ourselves." Greg shook his head as Warrick took the last corner too quickly.

"If I'd prepared you properly, you wouldn't need me to be there all the time." Warrick snarled angrily as he shut off the motor. Greg was momentarily shaken by the intensity of Warrick's ire, but realized that it was aimed towards himself, and not at Greg. Warrick had always been the one to be upset by his own mistakes.

"Hey, Not to change the subject, but……you ever compete in stock car races? Where'd ya learn to drive like that."

"Come on, let's go find Nick." Warrick chuckled. Greg was glad to see the smile, even if it didn't reach the eyes.

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This was not how he had planned it! He didn't get to finish it! He was supposed to get to kill him and take his head. That Damn woman had distracted him! If she had just stayed inside the building, he would have been able to finish him off! He didn't get to play with him! The little taste of fear wasn't enough! He was supposed to have killed the man! Warrick was supposed to be in shock right now. From where he was watching the man stalk into the hospital, Warrick was not shocked, he was pissed. Pissed and protective. Warrick wouldn't be letting the other one out of his sight anytime soon.

Now they were gathering again! They would be on their guard now. Getting to them would not be so easy! They were gathering together, gathering their strength while he as licking his wounds. His pride was damaged. They would pay for disrupting his playing! Where the hell did that other Immortal come from? What was his business here? How the hell did he know to come to 'Nicky's' aid? This was not how he had planned it. He had to think. He had to figure out what had gone wrong. Had he somehow let Warrick know that he was being targeted? Had Warrick felt his presence?

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"Cath!" Warrick jogged up to the woman sitting in the waiting room. She was pale and had a white bandage on her brow. Its blaring whiteness sent a roll of rage through him. This senseless attack was wrong, and he didn't like it. Catherine should not be hurt like this. Nick had been through enough. Fate had never been kind to Nick, but this was downright ridiculous!

"Nicky's okay." She gave them a half smile as Greg came to sit beside her. She took Greg's hand as if grateful for the contact. "He's getting patched up now."

"What happened?"

"I'm not really sure. This man……was on top of Nick, had a knife to his throat. I think I yelled…….I saw the knife…..in his chest….. He turned to me…..I don't remember much after that." Catherine sobbed, shaking her head in disbelief. "It all happened so fast."

Greg looked to Warrick and grew nervous. To an ordinary person, Warrick simply looked concerned for his friend, but Greg saw differently. While his hand was on Catherine's shoulder in a show of comfort, Warrick was tense. His face showed nothing, but his eyes told a different story. He was looking around the busy room, searching the faces of those coming and going. Greg could see the intensity in his friend. Something was up.

Greg continued to watch Warrick as he comforted Catherine. He let out a pent up breath when Warrick relaxed. Following his gaze, he saw what Warrick had already sensed. Mac was making his way over to them. Mac stopped a few feet away, nodding to Warrick. The tall CSI quietly excused himself with a gentle squeeze to Catherine's shoulder and stalked over to the other man. Greg wanted to join them but his first priority was Catherine.

Staying with Catherine did not stop him from watching the pair as they discussed something passionately. Greg had only seen Warrick this tense and emotional once, and that was when Nick was buried in the ground. Mac put an arm around the CSI's shoulders as if trying to comfort him. Warrick barked something back at him and Mac nodded. Giving Warrick a little shake, he strode out.

Warrick took a moment to get control of himself before rejoining his teammates. Greg's gaze stayed on him, pleading for answers that he couldn't give in front of Catherine. The green gaze seemed to promise him that things would be explained to him. Now was not the time for secrets.

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This is where things got tricky. How did one find a reason to leave work and follow his subject? If he left work every time Warrick did, he wouldn't have a job. Therefore, he relied on modern technology. Technology was cool. Warrick didn't know he was bugged. His car had a tracking device. His phone was monitored. He didn't listen to everything Warrick spoke into his cell, but he caught enough to understand what was going on. He had heard Warrick call MacLeod and ask him to keep an eye on Nick. The Watcher had frowned at this. Why would he want Nick to have a bodyguard? He wished, for the thousandth time, that Warrick was more forthright in expressing his emotions.

The Watcher had heard about Warrick's tantrum earlier. He had heard about his anger at Grissom sending Nick off away from Warrick. Something weird was going on and he needed to find out what. He didn't like the idea of invading Warrick's privacy any more than he already had, but it was beginning to look as if he should plant listening devices in Warrick's apartment.

He had heard Catherine's call to Warrick. Nick had been attacked. He knew about it before anyone else at the lab did. His first desire was to race out of there, to go see about Nick for himself. He couldn't do that. He had a job to do. He had a role to play and he couldn't lose this part. He had to pretend as if he knew nothing until it was made known to the rest of the lab. How does one pretend that nothing was wrong when a friend could be dying?

He could only sit back and watch. He was just another player warming the bench while the pros played the game. He couldn't participate. He couldn't interfere, as much as he wanted to. He wanted to be there for his friends. Nick was his friend. Warrick, no matter what he was, was his friend. He was torn between the job he had to do and what he felt in his soul. They were two completely opposite things, and he had to make a choice. No matter what he wanted, what he felt, the job had to come first. His job was to watch, and that was what he must do. He had to sit back and watch this play out. Sometimes living a secret life bites.

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**Still think it's Gil?**

**tbc...**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I know I said I'd post on Thursdays, but this installment is ready a little early. It's a little short and it's a little slow, just a bit of the team dealing with what happened to Nick. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned anything, why would I be posting it here?**

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Greg grimaced as he looked at Nick. Once again, Nick had found a new degree of looking pained and miserable. In the six years he'd known him, Nick always seemed to find new and exciting ways to get hurt. Now, he lay back against the white pillows, white blankets covered him and white gauze covered his chest and shoulder.

"It's a miracle the knife didn't do worse damage." Grissom was saying. "Basically, if you're going to be stabbed, that's the one place you can get stabbed that doesn't do any major damage. If the angle of the knife had been one degree different, we would be visiting you with Doc Robbins."

"'urts like hell." Nick admitted with a small smile.

"I'd imagine it does buddy." Warrick spoke up. He was leaning against the wall farthest from Nick. He had stayed back, acting aloof, but he was anything but. Greg knew that he was angry and worried still. The tension seemed to radiate from the big man.

"So what do we do?" Catherine asked from her seat beside the bed, where she sat holding Nick's hand. She still looked pale, but she looked good compared to Nick.

"We get the bastard!" Sara fumed. The conversation continued from there. Everyone seemed to have an idea of what should be done. Grissom mapped out the plan. Warrick remained silent. He said nothing; he just stared at the bandage on Nick's chest. Greg knew something was up. Warrick was not one to sit back and let others decide when it came to getting the perpetrator of a crime. Some sort of plan was formulating in his head. Greg worried that it would lead to trouble.

"I'm staying here with Nick." Warrick announced. Gil paused, studying the man quietly before nodding his consent. At the nod, Warrick added, "And so is Greg."

"Warrick, I realize you're upset, but I can't lose all of my CSI's over this. With both Nick and Catherine injured, I've got two down. We all need to work on this. The man who did this needs to be caught. He needs to be stopped."

"He will be." Warrick declared and Greg had a strange feeling that he had been right, Warrick was going to go after the man himself. Looking around, he saw that he was the only one that believed Warrick. Perhaps Nick did, but he did not seem to care one way or the other at the moment. He was barely lucid. He looked half-asleep due to the painkillers that had been pumped into him.

"Warrick-" Gil frowned his disapproving Grissom frown. It did not work on Warrick this time. In the past, the disapproving Grissom frown could turn anyone into a melting puddle of goo. This was a different Warrick; the frown didn't seem to faze him. This wasn't Warrick, CSI. This was Warrick, Immortal Warrior. Greg saw the difference and was awed. In all the years they had known one another, he had never seen the real Warrick, only a facade. The real Warrick, the warrior, was someone entirely different. He was someone to fear, if crossed. Greg was suddenly glad that Warrick was on their side.

"Greg and I are staying here." Warrick repeated, pushing off from the wall he had been leaning on. He surged forward, almost menacingly. Gil studied him as he studied anything that intrigued him. His expression didn't change as the larger man loomed over him. He had no fear of Warrick. Greg doubted that he ever would. To Grissom, they were all specimens to study under a microscope, nothing more.

"Okay. You two have the rest of this shift to stay with him. However,…..I want you both ready to work at the start of tomorrow's shift. Sara and I can handle tonight." Grissom finally nodded. "We'll head back to the lab after we get Catherine home."

"I'm not going home." Catherine informed him, drawing everyone's attention to her as she stood. "I'm ready to catch this guy."

"Catherine." Gil shook his head, clearly upset that everyone seemed to ignore the fact that he was the boss. He wondered when he had lost his authority. He clearly remembered a time when they all jumped to do his bidding. He would have to figure out what had changed the dynamics of the team and put it back in order. This was not a democracy. He was the leader and they were supposed to do what he said.

"I mean it, Gil! You didn't see this sicko! He was….licking Nick's blood! We have got to get him!" Catherine shuddered at the memory. "Please Gil….Don't bench me on this one. I will not be able to sleep until this freak is caught!"

"Okay." Reluctant as he was, Grissom knew better than to strike up a battle of wills with Catherine Willows. Especially in front of the team. He didn't think he would ever win when up against this stubborn redhead. "But you're only in the lab. Sara and I will do the legwork."

"Fine by me." Catherine agreed, knowing that she had no right to be part of this particular case, being that she was a victim. She would accept any part she was given, as long as this monster was caught.

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He had not killed the man. He hadn't even turned him. The damn man, Nicky, had survived and was now well ensconced in the hospital, protected and watched. He'd screwed up. If that woman had not of distracted him, he would have had his fun and then turned the man. As soon as he'd awoken as an Immortal, he would have taken his head.

It had been a while since he'd taken a head. It was getting harder and harder to find the new ones. It was just as hard to find the weak ones. Coming across Warrick Brown had been a stroke of luck. Perhaps this was turning out to be a stroke of bad luck. He'd screwed up.

Not only had he failed in taking the man's head, but he'd managed to put the man on guard. He imagined that he had managed to reawaken Warrick's desire to play the Game. In doing all this, now he had the attention of what looked to be a great warrior.

He had to be careful now. The mortals were going to be prepared for him now. Warrick and the other Immortal were going to be hunting for him. He had a decision to make. Did he go forward with his plan? Or should he cut his losses and run?

No! He couldn't let this man escape. He could not let this man slip through his fingers. He'd tasted his blood and he'd liked it. He wanted to finish this. He wanted to taste Warrick's blood too. That was why he had come all this way. He wasn't going to leave until he had both of them. They would both die. The kid too. Perhaps the kid would be the key. If he could get the kid, then the others would fall.

Yes, the kid had to die first. The younger they were, the more upset the elders got over the death.

**Now that Grissom has been taken out of the running as Warrick's Watcher, the guesses are all over the place. I'm still not tellin!Muhahahaha!**

**Anyone into fanvids? I'm feeling the need to make a CSI/Highlander vid. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Hmm, only one review on that one...guess that's what I get for a slow and short chapter. Thanks for my new reviewer! This one is about the same, but it's building up. Make you guys a deal. I'll post the next chapter when I get...4 reviews:)**

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"You are going to tell me what's going on, right?" Nick questioned as soon as everyone else was out of the room.

"And what you and Mac were arguing about?" Greg added, not wanting to be left out.

"Mac's coming. He'll explain." Warrick sighed. "Shit man, I'm so sorry about this." Warrick approached Nick for the first time. He made as if to touch him, but pulled away. Tensing, he turned to stare at the door. Greg wasn't surprised to see Mac enter. He was getting used to Warrick's ability to predict when Mac entered the room. Later, he would ask Warrick to describe the feeling that he got.

"Mac." Nick greeted him, sounding like he was actually glad to see the man. Greg frowned, last time he'd seen the two of them together, Nick was acting like he never wanted to see the man again. "I don't know how to thank you enough. You saved my bacon. Catherine's too."

"What?" Greg frowned, looking around at the other men. There was something that he had missed and he didn't like that. He didn't like being left out of the loop. That was why he had wanted to get out of the lab. He liked being in the thick of things.

"I'm just sorry I was late." Mac patted Nick on the hand, acting as if Greg hadn't spoken. "I didn't stop him from hurting you or the woman. I wasn't in time to save the cop that was with you."

"Matt's dead?" Nick looked crestfallen, he glanced at Warrick for affirmation.

"I'm completely confused here, guys. Mind clueing me in?" Greg insisted, growing irritated.

"The man who attacked Nick was an Immortal." Warrick explained. "Mac got there in time to save Nick but Matt Vitato wasn't so lucky. Vitato was the responding officer. He and Catherine interrupted the man. Catherine got hurt. Vitato died at the scene."

"But…..How did Mac know?"

"I called him." Warrick sighed. "After Gris separated us. I couldn't shake the feeling….of impending doom. So, I called Mac and asked him to keep an eye on Nick."

"I'm pissed that you feel I need a babysitter, but at the same time, I'm grateful for it." Nick announced with a sleepy yawn. "Turns out I needed it."

"But why? Why did this guy come after Nick? We're not Immortal yet. You said we weren't in the game yet." Confusion swirled around Greg. He was supposed to be safe from all this sword stuff until after he died. He was okay with that. Death seemed like a long time away. This new information made it seem like it wasn't so far away. He made it real. Reality was scary when it wielded long sharp blades.

"You're not technically in the Game. We can sense that you will be, so can others." Mac turned his attention to Greg. "Some will use that to their advantage."

"Why? How?" Greg shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't like the idea of being hunted.

"I've known Immortals who kill off others before they can enter the Game." Mac continued to explain. "I've known them to befriend one. To teach them, to let them get some power and knowledge under their belt, only to turn around and betray them in the back. Some will use anything they can to get the best of you."

"Some are weaker, so they must use tricks to stay alive." Warrick nodded. "The object is to stay alive. Anyway you can. There aren't many rules, so anything goes."

"There are rules? You didn't tell me any rules." Greg accused irritably.

"We'll get to those later." Warrick gave him a small smile.

"I ran across a child Immortal. He was ten…..physically…. But he was much older. He had survived on his wits. He conned others into protecting him, only to turn around and kill his protectors."

"A kid?"

"Yes, Immortals can be every shape and size. Women, men….old and young. Now, usually, the children don't survive long unless their smart or protected. Kenny may have looked ten, but looks can be deceiving." Mac had a chagrinned look on his face that told the others that he had fallen for the kid's act. "The Game isn't discriminating. Only the players are."

"Was the kid evil?"

"Some would say he was." Mac shrugged. "I tend to think he was just trying to stay alive the best he could."

"Was this man…..attacking Nick for the sake of attacking Nick, or was he using him to get to Warrick?" Greg finally questioned, seeming to understand the concept. Nick paled even more than he already was. He looked at Warrick nervously. As much as he hated to be babysat, he hated to be used even more. Being used against a friend was beyond his scope of acceptance.

"We won't know until we know who this guy is. I can't say for sure, but my guess is that he's after Warrick." Mac answered after waiting to see if Warrick would. "He could just be afraid of having new contenders and trying to stop them from becoming Immortals."

"How do we find out for sure?" Greg demanded. He seemed to be the only one capable of asking. Nick and Warrick seemed to be having a stare down.

"I have a friend that might be able to find out. He's the Watcher I told you about. Most Immortals have a Watcher, so if there are any Immortals in the Vegas area, Joe should be able to find out. If it's a known Immortal, there will be some background information. See if he has a history of this type of thing. Perhaps we can find out what the motive behind this attack is." Mac explained to them all. Warrick frowned. Greg knew it was because he didn't like the idea of being watched. Warrick was a private guy. He didn't like people being all up in his business.

"So what do we do? Nick and I can't hide forever. We have lives. We have jobs!"

"Until we get this guy, we stay together." Warrick winced at the look of irritation from his friends' faces. "Mac and I can stay near, just as a precaution. Nick's got it made, being injured, he'll be forced to remain in the lab. I just have to figure out a way to get Grissom to keep Greg in the lab too. This guy can't attack you guys there. It's too crowded. Too many eyes."

"I'm not spending the rest of my life with my tail between my legs." Greg grumbled. It had taken him years to get out of the lab and he wasn't about to voluntarily go back.

"No, but you will until we get you trained." Warrick ordered in an commanding voice that would make Grissom jealous.

"You think that you can get Grissom to allow you to bodyguard us both at all times?" Nick scoffed at the idea. "Not gonna happen, Warrick."

"Just until we can get you two trained and we put a stop to this guy." Warrick didn't sound too convincing, even to himself.

"I called a couple of friends The more of us around, the less likely he'll attack. This type of guy doesn't want a major confrontation. My guess is that he's a coward, which is why he sprung on a man, not an Immortal. He doesn't think he can take on one of us." Mac announced, drawing the CSI's attention.

"Who did you call? Do I know them?" Warrick frowned, not liking surprises being sprung on him.

"I don't think you know them. I met them both since I saw you last. How long has it been, Warrick?"

"Twenty years, I think." Warrick decided. "I was in New York, you were headed for Paris once again. Who are these guys?"

"Richie is a new Immortal. I found and trained him……six years ago. I guess you could say he's your little brother." Mac grinned. "He's stubborn and hot-headed, just like you. Must be a family trait."

Warrick didn't look amused as he glared at his old friend. He continued to look at Mac, waiting for him to continue. Mac watched him with a slight look of amusement. It wasn't until the green gaze narrowed into a look of warning that he went on. "Richie is a good guy to have at your back. I promise."

"How do we know for sure?" Greg interrupted, feeling uneasy at trusting anyone. "From what you've just told me, we can't trust anyone."

"You trust Warrick?" Mac looked from Nick to Greg, waiting until the answered with a nod. "Warrick trusts me. I trust Richie. Warrick and I are….family. Richie is part of my family. As a family, we stick together. Being what we are, we have to find family where we can. I would trust Richie with my life just as quickly as I have trusted Warrick."

"So, who is this other friend?" Warrick queried.

"Well, he's a good ally. He's old and smart. Brilliant, I would say." Mac grinned at the green eyes narrowing more. "He's….a myth that's real. The oldest living Immortal."

"Methos?" Warrick scoffed with a disparaging roll of the eyes. "Yeah, right!"

"I didn't believe it at first, but it's him. He's a damn smart one. He was hiding right in the middle of the Watchers, and they never had a clue. He's helped me out of a couple of jams and he's willing to lend a hand now too."

"Methos! I thought you told me he wasn't real. He was just a story someone made up…..a fairy tale." Warrick shook his head, unable to believe it was true.

"I know. I really believed that. I thought he was just a myth. But, once you know him, you can see the truth. Hell, you look into his eyes, and you can see the years and knowledge." Mac confessed. "He's real. But, to keep it secret, we all call him Adam."

"So….you've called in the troops." Greg cut in, unsure what all that was about. He looked at the two, expectantly. "Now, what's the plan?"


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Well, I have to admit that I've been teasing you about Warrick's Watcher. I won't be revealing who it is for a couple more installments. Sorry, but hang in there!**

**As for those of you who are Highlander fans, I'm sure you noticed I've mentioned an appearance of a character who no longer exists in the Highlander world. I live in my own world where they did NOT kill Richie. And they certainly did NOT kill him on my BIRTHDAY! I don't accept it, so in my story, Richie is alive and well! **

**And yes, the bad guy returns in this installment!**

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"What is this place?" Nick asked as Warrick hustled him inside the building. Warrick had insisted that they get him out of the hospital, so he had signed himself out to the dismay of his doctors. He had followed Warrick meekly, without question, assuming that they were going to Warrick's apartment. This was not his apartment. This looked like an old abandoned warehouse.

"This is……my lair." Warrick chuckled. "I have had lots of secrets. This is one of them."

"Lair?" Greg grimaced. "As in dungeon? Are we to become prisoners here?"

"No, you're to become warriors here." Warrick said it so calmly that you would think he was speaking of the weather. This was a big thing, Nick understood that. This was life and death. They were fixing to enter a stage in their lives that would shape the rest of their lives. If they did it correctly, the rest of their lives would last a very long time. Somehow it didn't seem as appealing as it should.

The inside of the building didn't look much more promising than the outside. It was dirty and abandoned. What looked like the remains of office furniture lay scattered about the large open space. The dust and the stale air wouldn't do any good on his recovery rate, Nick thought. Warrick guided them around the inside edge of the building, ignoring all the debris.

"This is where I come to train. I may have been out of the Game for all these years, but you can't let yourself become rusty. You never know when something like this may come up. You have to be ready, or you lose your head." Warrick rationalized quietly. He led them to an old service elevator towards the back of the building. Once inside, he stuck a key in and the elevator came to life. According to the buttons on the machine, the building had three floors. Warrick punched the top floor and the old machine groaned as it surged to life.

"And no one has came looking for you here?" Nick questioned. "No one has become suspicious that you own this building. You do own it, right?"

"It's not in my current name. As lives pass, you must change your identity. I have had several identities but wherever I go, I use a secret, unused identity to purchase a place such as this to keep myself trained."

"And has anyone ever come looking for you? I've known you for six years and I've never seen you react to anyone like you do when Mac comes near." Nick was beginning to feel dizzy and he wanted nothing more than to sit down, or better yet, lie down. As much as he tried to hide his weakness, he didn't get anything past Warrick. Warrick took hold of him just under his arm of his good side, silently helping him stay upright as the elevator ground to a halt.

Greg helped to open the doors, seeing that Warrick was half holding Nick up. As the room was revealed, Nick was surprised at what he saw. Nothing was abandoned or dirty here. To the right, in the dircetion that Warrick was manhandling him, was a large inviting bed. Beyond the bed, was an area that looked like a tv room. A large comfortable looking couch, side chairs that looked just a comfortable. "Can't I just sit in one of those?" Nick questioned, motioning towards the chairs as Warrick guided him to the bed.

"Nick, you look like death warmed over. You need to sleep. You need some rest. After you sleep, then you can worry about looking tough to us." Warrick didn't pause as he tucked him into the bed. Nick sank into the soft bedding, not really dismayed after feeling the comforting warmth. He fought his eyes from slamming shut in order to look around the rest of the room. It looked like a gym. Ever possible piece of exercise equipment lined the walls. The center of the room was empty except for being carpeted with a mat.

"You sleep here?" Nick yawned.

"Not very often. It gets sort of lonely here. This is not for enjoyment. This is business. This is where you will learn everything that you need to know to stay alive." Warrick motioned to the room. "You rest. Greg, have a look around. I'll show you all routes of escape. That's the first step to staying alive….Never leave yourself without a way out."

If Warrick had anything else to say, it was lost to Nick as he drifted off to sleep.

He had lost them. Somehow they had managed to escape him. He had searched each of their apartments. They were not there. He had followed their co-workers to no avail. They had gone into the wind. Warrick Brown had taken his little ducklings and secreted them away. Most likely, he was preparing them. He needed to do something. He had to find them. He returned to his hideout near the CSI building. He had a feeling that they would return there. If all else failed, you go back to the beginning.

He had to get to the kid. He had to get him away from the others. He knew better now, he wouldn't get a chance to play with him as he had wanted to play with the other. He had screwed up there. He had failed to kill him and now he wasn't vulnerable anymore. They were protecting him and the kid. He was no longer the hunter. He was the hunted. They would be searching for him. They would come after him now. He had to attack in a way they wouldn't be prepared for.

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Warrick was gone. In ten years of following the man, he had never completely lost him before. The tracking device in the vehicle was useless if the man left it behind. The bug in the phone was inadequate if the man did not have it turned on.

He'd heard that Warrick and Greg had stayed by Nick's side. He'd gone to the hospital after shift only to find that Nick had checked himself out, AMA. According to the nurse, Warrick had been the one to convince Nick to leave. After leaving the hospital, they had seemingly dropped off the radar.

He hadn't thought to put tracking devices on Nick or Greg's cars. He made a mental note to consider doing that to all the CSI's Putting some sort of beacon on their badges, perhaps? That way, if one of them went missing, he'd have an idea of where to look. That certainly would have come in handy last year, when Nick had gone missing.

He wasn't much of a Watcher, if he lost his subject the first time something happens. Ten years of nothing and he waits until now to lose the guy. What a crappy Watcher he turned out to be!

At least he had contact with the other guy's Watcher. Joe Dawson had emailed him that he was in town and would be contacting him ASAP. Perhaps he could find out from Dawson where MacLeod was and Warrick would be nearby. Once he found the errant Immortal, he would make sure not to lose him again.

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"If something should happen. If anyone show's up unannounced, you use one of these routes to get out of here." Warrick was reminding Greg for the tenth time. He had shown the different ways out of the building to Greg and had made him practice escaping.

"And where do I go? I thought I was supposed to be safe with you?" Greg frowned. He was tired, stressed and cranky. He just wanted to sit down and veg for a while or do like Nick and sleep.

"You are, but we can't protect you if we are in the middle of battle. Say you were with me when I was challenged? If I failed, would you be able to protect yourself? No. If someone comes, you get yourself away, as far as possible. You get to the lab and you stay there until I contact you. Or if I'm not around…..Duncan contacts you."

"I think I felt safer when I knew I was going to die like everyone else." Greg snorted. Warrick opened his mouth to reply, but his attention was diverted. He wore the, now familiar, look of tension and curiosity. "Mac's here?"

"Let's hope it's him." Warrick went over towards the elevator, sword in hand. Greg blinked, he hadn't even seen Warrick pick up the weapon, but suddenly it was in his hands. Somehow Warrick's cat-like grace made sense more than it ever had before. Warrick stalked forward like a panther, motioning for Greg to get closer to Nick. Greg pulled his gun. He knew that a gunshot wouldn't kill an Immortal, but it sure as heck would slow one down.

Although Warrick had told him repeatedly to run should things go down, he knew he couldn't leave Nick behind. Nick was hurt, he was vulnerable. You don't leave a man behind to save your own skin. No, he would stay and protect Nick if it came down to it. He would never be able to live throughout eternity if it was at the cost of his friend.

"I know what you're thinking, Greg." Warrick hissed at him. "If this is it, you get out of here! I can't worry about both of you. I can't protect you both!"

Greg suddenly realized that he was a liability to Warrick. If he was in a battle to the death, worry about protecting him and Nick would be a weakness. Greg decided then and there, if he survived this confrontation, he would strive to learn everything he could about defending himself. He stared at the elevator as it began to moan and creak into life. He'd never been as frightened as he suddenly felt as he saw Warrick tense and prepare to strike.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Still the same; wish they were, but they're not!**

**A/N: Special thanks to ElenaG for being a loyal reviewer. And a new reviewer Kellyjean27,thanks!It means a lot to me that you take the time to review I love writing this, but sometimes I need a little encouragement. **

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The elevator ground to a halt. Greg cringed as Warrick prepared his assault. Greg prayed that it was Mac about to step out of the elevator. Warrick raised his sword, advancing as the gate clanked open.

The person that met Warrick's sword with one of his own was not Duncan MacLeod. The man was tall, nearly as tall as Warrick. He was lean, but evident by the way he blocked Warrick's attack, he was strong. He held Warrick's sword back as his piercing blue eyes took every detail of the room.

Greg glanced nervously down at Nick. In his drug-induced slumber, the Texan had no clue that a sword fight was impending. Greg felt a flash of envy for the lack of knowledge. He suddenly realized that he was not ready for this. This was the type of stuff that you found in comic books, not your best friends backyard.

"Duncan, your child doesn't take to company very well." The man calmly stepped back, twisting his arms as he did. The result of his movement was the loosening of pressure between the two swords. Warrick swiveled in response, his sword aching through the air to a ready position. Greg saw Warrick shift his weight gracefully, ready and waiting for the intruder's next move. "Not to receptive to guests at all." The man's voice had a teasing tone to it, but his eyes were cold and harsh.

"Warrick, mind your manners." Mac took a teasing, paternal tone as he steeped out of the elevator from behind the man with the sword. Greg let out a pent up breath feeling a great sense of relief. "This is no way to greet guests who have come to help."

"Could ya warn a guy?" Warrick barked, lowering his sword. His stance visibly relaxed, but his eyes showed that he was still on edge. "I had no way of knowing who was coming up the elevator! Ever think of using a phone? It's the Twenty-first Century! Surely you have a cell phone you could have used!"

"I would have. I tried, except for the simple fact that your phone is turned off." Mac smirked.

"What?" Warrick reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Frowning, he studied it. "I never shut off my phone!"

"In the hospital." Greg told him, stepping forward so he could get a better look at the newcomers. "You turned it off there. I think you were afraid Grissom would call you back into the lab."

Mac stepped fully into the room, followed by the other two men. Warrick eyed them suspiciously, but Greg looked upon them with interest. The first one that stepped out from behind Mac was young, or at least looked young. He was studying Warrick and Greg with a calculating gaze, but there was a twinkle in his blue eyes that made him seem friendly. He was shorter than the others were, but carried himself as if he could handle any situation. Greg admired that air of confidence.

The young man stepped quietly to the side, having judged Warrick to be the threat, he watched him with a critical eye. Greg surmised that he had been dismissed as a non-threat. He put his gun aside. How threatening could he really be? Bringing an ineffective gun to a swordfight was no threat.

The last man to step out of the elevator surprised Greg. He did not look to be in the same category as the others. There was no air of toughness about him. He was an older man with a salt and pepper beard that matched the hair on his head. Greg knew that Immortals could be older, but his man did not seem to fit the bill. Greg was shocked to see the way the man hobbled into the room, leaning heavily on a cane. The way he moved with the came reminded Greg of Doc Robbins.

The Doc Robbins look-a-like glanced the room quickly, looking from Warrick to Greg with interest. The way he looked at them was not the way the others were watching them. The way he examined them reminded Greg of Gil Grissom. This man was scrutinizing them the way Grissom analyzed his bugs. They were specimens.

"Warrick, these are my friends. This is Adam Pearson." Mac introduced the man who had drawn swords with Warrick. Warrick and the man nodded acknowledgments to one another, but that was it. "Over there is Richie Ryan." He motioned to the younger man who was now staring at Greg with interest. Evidently, only another nod of acknowledgement was required. "And this is Joe Dawson."

Warrick stepped toward the older man. "Ah, the Watcher." He eyed the man with a derogatory expression on his face. The older man didn't seem to take any offense. He simply stared back at Warrick. "You're the one that has made a career out of spying on us."

"Actually, I spy on Duncan for a hobby. I own and run a bar for my living." Joe countered, sounding unruffled by Warrick's judgmental manner. "You have your own Watcher who spies on you." The way he spat out the word "spies" was the only clue that he was irritated by Warrick's manner.

Greg could almost see the tension ebbing from Warrick and stepped forward in hopes of lightening the mood. He stuck out his hand to the closest man, the quiet one. "And I'm Greg Sanders. Evidently, one has to be an Immortal to rate an introduction." The young man grinned a boyish grin as he shook the proffered hand firmly.

"And what's with Sleeping Beauty over there?" Richie looked over at the bed pointedly. Nick was still sleeping, having never known that anything out of the ordinary was happening.

"That's Nick. The freak nearly killed him. We just checked him out of the hospital." Greg explained.

"We won't get much training out of him anytime soon." Adam commented, coming over to look down at Nick. He offered his hand to Greg with a charismatic smile. "But you, we will." Greg shook the hand, liking the man with the strange lilting accent.

"I'd like that. Seems real important that I learn…real quick." Greg agreed before going over to offer his hand to the third man. Joe shook his hand with a friendly, near-Grissom look. Greg didn't know if he liked being a bug on a microscope to this man.

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Richie approached the aloof black man with caution. "So you are the famous Warrick Brown. The Prodigal Son."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Warrick frowned at the young-looking man. He looked younger than Greg did. He looked as if he were just barely out of his teens, but Warrick knew from experience, that looks can definitely be deceiving.

"I've heard so much about you, Big Brother. You are a tough image to live up to. There's no way I could win as many awards and trophies as the great Warrick Brown. I guess you could say that I had the little brother complex. I never could earn the affections of "dear-old-dad' like you had. However, you had disappeared. He didn't know where you had gone. He didn't know if you were still alive and kicking or if you had gone off and lost your head. I was just a poor replacement."

"Mac's like a father to you?" Warrick looked at the younger man with new eyes. He had never thought of Duncan as a father figure. He was a friend. The closest he could say was that Duncan was like a brother. No, Warrick looked over to where Nick lay; Duncan wasn't even like a brother to him. Nick was his brother, not Duncan.

"I was still a kid when I met Duncan. I was seventeen and alone in the world. I'd been alone my entire life. Duncan and Tessa took me in. They became the family I'd always wanted and dreamed of." Richie confessed with a shrug. "So yeah, Mac was like a father to me. Still is."

"I met Tessa once." Warrick brought up a memory of a beautiful blonde-haired woman. "It was right before I pulled out of the Game. She was beautiful. He loved her. I heard about her…..death."

"He's never loved anyone like he loved Tessa." Richie looked across the room to where Mac was talking with the others. "He has never gotten over her."

"He never will." Warrick added sagely. "When you love someone so deeply…….it stays with you, no matter how long you live or how much time passes."

"I've never had that type of love. Have you?" Richie questioned softly, only to be answered by a slight nod. "When Tessa died, that was when I became Immortal. I wasn't like Greg. I was not told what I was before it happened. I knew what Mac was. I'd come across him and a couple of others battling it out. Mac didn't have much choice but to explain it all, except he left out the part about me being one. He would let me play around with him, but it was no real training. I was shot; I saw my life flash before my eyes…….then I woke back up. Tessa didn't." Richie sighed. "I had to have a crash course, much like Greg is about to get. Has he seen a Quickening?"

"No. He hadn't seen me with a sword in my hand until you guys showed up. He has just learned about this. I just had a bad feeling…..like a premonition. I called Mac for some advice. Then….that freak attacked Nick….."

"We'll get him." Richie vowed, feeling the need to comfort the big man. He could see the rage and desperation in his face and he felt the need to reassure him.

"I just want him found. When he is, he's mine!" Warrick growled, allowing the rage to take control. "No one goes after my friends without having to deal with me!"

**Next installment set for Thursday unless I get some extra reviews, then I'll post it early. It's all up to you guys. lol**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Even though Joy says I "own" Warrick when I write him, I really don't. Unless she can supply me with some sort of certificate of ownership? That would be wonderful! I'd have to frame the sucker. Alas, I don't have that certificate, so I guess I dont' own anything 'cept the badguy.**

**A/N: It's Thursday and here's your story update! Yeah! another new reviewer! Once again, by faithful reviewer is keeping me motivated. Those of you non-Highlander fans, am I making this concept clear enough? I hope I am. As always, see you again on Sunday unless I get enough reviews to inspire me to update sooner.**

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"Where is Nick?" Grissom demanded to know as soon as Warrick walked into the lab. His anger was oddly out of character for the normally impassive man, that it caused Warrick to pause. "I went to the hospital only to find that he'd checked out without the doctor's consent! I checked his apartment; he's not there. I even checked yours and Greg's places. Where is Nick? In addition, where is Greg? He's supposed to be here, and I hear that he's called in sick?"

"Nick is somewhere safe. You're insisting that I come in to work, so I made sure that I don't have to worry about Nick. As for Greg…..he's a big boy-"

"Don't you dare attempt to tell me you had nothing to do with Greg not showing up!" Grissom growled. Warrick was amused to see a little vein attempting to pop out of the man's temple. That was very un-Grissom-like, indeed. A little frustration and emotion would do him some good. "Quit that damn smirking and start explaining yourself!"

"Look, there isn't much to tell you except that I don't like Nick being out in the open, unprotected. He had no problem with going with me to somewhere safe. He's being well cared for as well as protected." Warrick shrugged. "I didn't kidnap him. You weren't willing to let me stay with him, so I did the next best thing."

"Where is he?" Grissom demanded to know.

"With friends." Warrick repeated, his tone warning Gil that he would not be telling him anything more than that. Gil frowned in irritation.

"What about Greg?" Gil decided to switch topics, hopelessly hoping to trip him up. He knew Warrick was too smart and too stubborn to fall for it, but he tried anyway. "He's not at his apartment and he's not answering his cell. I'm going to have to suspend him for insubordination."

"Suspend me. You've already admitted that you know I'm behind this." Warrick demanded, angry at the threat.

"He's a grown man. He has a mind of his own. Unless you have him chained up, he has no reason to obey you. I'm his boss, not you." Gil answered smoothly, the true Grissom coming back to surface as all emotion left, replaced by a mask of indifference. Warrick smiled at the chameleon-like ability that was so Grissom.

"Look, I warned you that something was coming. I begged you to let me stay with both Nick and Greg. You didn't listen to me. YOU put Nick out there and Nick got hurt. Now, I'm not giving you the chance to do the same with Greg! He's staying out of the spotlight until the coast is clear."

"Warrick, just tell me what's going on. Who is this guy? Why is he after our guys? What makes you think you can predict what's going on?" Grissom demanded.

"Look, Gil." Warrick heaved a heavy sigh. "You know I won't explain. You know I can't explain. This is just one of those mysterious things about me that you like. I'm a big puzzle to you, that's why you keep me around. Yes, this all has something to do with me. I brought this on us and I will finish this. I'll get our guys out of this, I promise."

"Warrick-" Gil shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache. "I can't allow this. You and I both know this."

"Don't punish Greg. I'll take the heat for this. Just let me protect them in my own way." Warrick pleaded but his eyes were hard, promising that he wouldn't back down on this. Gil knew him well enough to know not to try.

"I'll give you today. Greg is back on the schedule tomorrow. Is that clear?"

"That all you can give me?" Warrick growled, irritated.

"I don't have to give you anything, Warrick." Gil informed him woodenly. "Take it, or leave it."

"Okay. I'll get Greg back in here tomorrow." Warrick agreed. "Any chance that he can be lab-bound?"

"No."

"Okay, okay. I gotcha." Warrick sighed.

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Warrick Brown had returned to work. Where were Nick and Greg? Why the disappearing trick? What the heck was going on? This Watcher was getting a headache. It was all too new and too confusing.

Things were happening too fast for this part-time Watcher. It had been too quiet for too long and he'd become complacent and lazy.

He watched the big man stride through the hallway after a confrontation with Grissom. The Immortal Warrick had returned in replace of the calm, cool CSI Brown. Gil was staring after him as if he didn't know what to make of him.

He glanced at his watch, wondering how long until Joe Dawson contacted him. He needed advice from an expert. He didn't know anything about tracking an active Immortal.

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Angry eyes watched as Warrick got into his vehicle with the brunette woman. He had returned to the CSI building without either of his friends. He had them in hiding, damn him. He wanted that kid! The other warrior was probably acting as their bodyguard while Brown searched for him. How dare he? Actually hunting for him! He was the Hunter!

He had to do something. Someone had to die soon. If Warrick wouldn't supply the mortals, then he would have to go after Warrick. He would follow Warrick today; he would lead him to the mortals. He would watch and wait for the right opportunity. He would kill someone today, he couldn't wait any longer.

His smile was one of pure evil gleefulness as he pictured it. He would kill them in a surprise attack; they wouldn't know what was coming! He suddenly enjoyed the challenge they had presented him with. It was going to be fun to destroy them, one by one!

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Someone was going to get hurt, Nick Stokes was guaranteeing that! Here he was, recovering from a near-death experience and they were giving him a headache? His head felt like it was being squashed in a vise grip and someone was pounding….chopsticks? Or was it silverware?

Struggling to open his eyes that felt like they were four hundred pounds each, Nick finally managed to open them a crack. Fear rushed through him momentarily, as he didn't recognize the ceiling above him. He had a phobia about waking up in strange places, it always led to no good. His heartbeat slowed as he remembered Warrick dragging him and Greg to what he termed his "lair".

Nick took a moment to get his bearings and listened to the sounds around him. There were two distinct sounds; the pounding of wood on wood and the pounding and scraping of metal on metal. Gathering what strength he had, he forced himself to rise up on his elbows. He wished he hadn't made the effort. He blinked, unable to believe his eyes.

Greg was across the room, attacking another man with a long stick, thus making the sounds of wood pounding together. The man with him was deflecting his attacks and countering with some of his own. Nick frowned, unsure what to make of that. A little farther into the room, Mac was acting similarly with a tall man, but they were the ones making the other sounds. The metal was, in fact, swords.

Nick continued to watch the four men in a daze. Perhaps it was the drugs he had been given? Why would Greg be playing with sticks? As he watched, Greg stumbled, falling to the ground with a heavy thump. The other man advanced on him, knocking the stick out of Greg's lax hand and bringing his own stick to Greg's throat.

"Never lose your weapon!" The man yelled at him, shoving the stick farther into Greg's Adam's apple. Nick grew worried, struggling with the heavy covers; he attempted to get out of bed to aid his friend. He didn't care how injured he was, he wasn't about to let his friend get hurt.

"Relax. Richie won't hurt him." A gruff voice spoke up from beside him. Turning, Nick found that a man was sitting in a chair close to his bed. "He's training him." The man told him, motioning for Nick to look back at Greg. The man was pulling him to his feet, offering the stick back to him. "He's teaching him how to survive."

"Who are you?" Nick demanded to know. He didn't like this feeling of constant confusion. Life used to be so much easier, back when he was just a simple CSI, barely starting out. Back then, the thrill of the chase was all he worried about. That, and not screwing up in front of the boss.

"Ah, yes. You weren't conscious when the introductions were made. I'm Joe. Joe Dawson." The man gave him a friendly smile. Nick frowned. Was the name supposed to mean something to him? It didn't. Right now, Nick didn't care if this guy was richer than Bill Gates.

"And that's supposed to explain who you are….how?" Nick was in no mood for trivia games.

Joe could see that the invalid didn't have the patience, so he explained softly. "I'm a friend of MacLeod's. We all are. Duncan called us to help train you and Greg."

"You're going to help train us?" Nick quirked a brow at the cane that leaned against Joe's chair pointedly. He hadn't meant for it to sound so offensive, but he didn't apologize.

"Okay, Richie and Adam are going to help train. I'm going to help Warrick find the man that did this to you. He doesn't trust me much, but he'll need my help." The man didn't seem to have taken any offense to Nick insinuating that he couldn't be of much usefulness. He seemed to take it in stride.

"Nick!" Greg came trotting over to him, hot and sweaty but looking cheerful. "Good to see you back to the land of the living!"

"Where's Warrick?"

"At the lab. Most likely getting his butt chewed on my Grissom." Greg dropped on the end of the bed. "He had me call in sick and stay here with you and the guys. You haven't met them have you?"

"I met Joe." Nick shot a look over at the older man. "He tells me that they're here to help get us prepared for battle."

"Well, not battle….yet." The man that had been sparring with Greg cut in, approaching with a towel wrapped around his neck. "We just want you guys to be able to protect yourselves. Later, after you become an Immortal, then you worry about the battles."

"And you know this from experience….how?" Nick narrowed his gaze at the young man with the reddish blonde hair. He looked friendly, but Nick wasn't going to judge this book by it's cover.

"I'm just about the same age as you are. Don't be deceived by my boyish good looks." He grinned. "Take advantage of not having to worry about the next man to come for your head, while you can. It doesn't last long, enjoy it."

tbc...for like...16 more chaps! LOL


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I got some really nice reviews so I'm updated early as promised. Although...Elena called me heartless & evil, not sure if that can be consided a "nice review" lol! I'm gonna be evil about who Warrick's Watcher is for one more chapter.**

**oh BTW, Mac & Duncan are one in the same person. Mac is a nickname, a shortened version of MacLeod. Sorry for any confusion.**

**Disclaimer: Still waiting for Joy to give me that certificate fo ownership of Warrick. Until then, I don't own them. :)**

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Sara knew where Warrick's hideout was. She didn't bother to attempt to follow him as he left the lab. He was too suspicious and jumpy today. Therefore, she just gave him a wave goodbye and drove away. She didn't need to follow him to where he would abandon his car and jump a bus. She already knew that after the bus, he would hail a cab to another bus then walk the last six blocks to his hideout. He had had the same routine for a long time now; she didn't need to follow him.

It was all due to the simple fact that she already knew where he was heading. She knew this because she had already followed Warrick, years ago. She'd followed him after Grissom had failed to fire him once again. She had followed him several times, hoping to catch him in something that Grissom could not ignore.

All she had managed to find was that he liked to hang out in an old abandoned building. She'd looked into the building. A dummy corporation, paid for by a Swiss bank account, owned it. There was nothing she could pin on Warrick. There was nothing, except that he used it as his own personal playhouse.

She'd managed to get upstairs once and had found his secret. He had his own gym. It was a home away from home, except this home was more expensive then the one he normally invited his friends to. The place was decorated in antiques, not fakes, but real antiques. Sara knew enough to be able to tell the difference. She'd done her research too, nothing had been reported stolen.

Although Sara had wanted to question Warrick about the place, she knew better. She had butted heads with Warrick before and had come out the loser. She'd investigated him before, on request of Grissom, and had looked like an ass. She'd felt like an even bigger one. No, Sara Sidle would not make that mistake again.

She'd followed Warrick there several times over the years, so she knew that he still went there. That was where he had stashed Nick, she would bet on that. There was only one question, was Nick there willingly?

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"There are rules that we must follow, as Immortals." Adam leaned back on the couch, beer in hand.

"Okay. I'm good with rules." Nick winced as he pushed himself upright against the headboard.

"Yeah, Nick always follows the rules. He was a boy scout." Greg chuckled, pouncing down on the couch beside Adam. Adam sent a killing glare as his beer sloshed onto his pants. "And I'm guessing, if Warrick can follow the rules, so can I."

"The rules are simple." Mac joined the group, pulling a chair up backwards to straddle. "Number one: Never fight on Holy Ground."

"Holy Ground?" Greg frowned. "What's that mean?"

"Churches. Graveyards." Nick supplied.

"Temples, "Adam nodded, adding. "Any place that is Sacred or blessed. We're safe from each other on Holy Ground."

"That's a rule?" Greg questioned. "That's simple enough. I have no desire to hang out in a graveyard. What's rule number 2?"

"Never interfere with another's fight. One on one is the only way to do it. Never two against one." Adam continued. "It has to be a fair fight."

"Except when one chooses to cheat." Richie interrupted, pulling another chair close with one hand while holding a beer in the other. With the beer-hand, he pointed at Greg. "They fight dirty. It's survival, ya know. Sometimes you use what you have, whatever's available."

"But, that's just the evil ones, right?"

"It's not all black and white." Mac shook his head. "We all have the capabilities to be good just as we can be evil."

"Just like normal people." Adam added sagely. "In that sense, we are no different from humans. There are neither Angels nor Devils, just men….and Immortals. We are all trying to make it through life….the best we can. I've done evil, so has Mac. What makes us different is that we are willing to change for the better, we come back from it."

"What about you, Richie? Have you ever been evil?" Greg teased with a grin.

"No. I don't think I have actually been evil, just stupid at times. I've done things that I wish I could undo, but each time, I thought it was the right thing to do."

"I wouldn't call it stupid, Rich." Joe' hobbled over to pat the young Immortal's shoulder. "Perhaps gullible, but not stupid."

"Ritchie's a sucker for a pretty face." Mac snickered. "Doesn't matter if the face belongs for a mortal or immortal, he'll fall for it every time."

"Ha-ha, Mac." Richie sneered at his friend a moment before reaching for his sword. The other two Immortals did the same.

"Warrick's home?" Greg stated hopefully as the men approached the elevator.

"Let's hope so. Rich, stay with them." Mac ordered. With a nod, Richie positioned himself between the elevator and Nick's bed, his sword gripped firmly in hand. Should one of the others be challenged by this intruder, he would get Greg and Nick out of here while the intruder was engaged in battle. He wouldn't interfere with the battle. Everyone stood, tense and waiting. The deafening silence was interrupted by Mac's phone ringing from where it lay on the coffee table. Joe reached over and read the display.

"It's Warrick." He announced as he answered it. He didn't say a word, only listened for a moment and then hung up. "He says to relax; he's on his way up."

The three immortals relaxed, going back to where they had been sitting. A few moments later, the creaking of the elevator announced the arrival of Warrick. He stepped into the room, giving the men a look of annoyance.

"You guys look real busy." He snorted. "I work all day, bring home food and you guys are sitting on your butts drinking beer? I definitely got the raw end of this deal."

"They were just explaining some of the rules." Joe supplied as Warrick set the take out on the coffee table. "Greg has been training most of the day. He seems to be doing pretty well."

"And you would know….how?" Warrick snarled, his dislike for the man evident once again.

"For the simple reason that I've witnessed more Quickenings than you've thought of." Joe countered, equally as hateful.

"Guys, cool it." Richie rolled his eyes. "Warrick, Joe is cool. Trust us. Trust him."

"I don't know if I can trust anyone who is basically a stalker!" Warrick thundered.

"Stalker? What?" Nick looked nervously from one man to another. Just the mention of the word caused a shiver to run through him.

"Warrick's having problems with Joe being a Watcher." Greg explained simply. Nick frowned, unsure of what to make of that statement.

"What exactly is a Watcher?" He frowned, not liking the impression that he was getting. This immortality business was getting even less desirable than he's originally thought.

"We observe the Immortals; we keep track of who fights and who goes on to fight another battle. I am MacLeod's Watcher." Joe explained. "I don't do anything to interfere or cause him any harm. I just watch….chronicle his history."

"I don't think I like that idea!" Nick shivered visibly. "Do you watch me?"

"No, you don't have a watcher until you are officially an Immortal. I can only watch one at a time, so you'll have your own watcher as soon as you enter the game."

"So, Warrick has someone watching him?" Nick grimaced. "I don't like the idea…I've had that before and I don't feel comfortable with someone….watching me."

"Neither do I!" Warrick flared. "I plan on putting a stop to it as soon as I find out who the hell it is!"

"Warrick, chill." Greg put a hand out, as if to stop the man. "I know who your watcher is, and it's cool."

"You know?" Adam looked shocked. "How? Joe, did you tell him?"

"No, I haven't even met with the man yet. I wouldn't give the person's identity out. It's not safe. It's not safe for something like that to come out, especially when the Immortal in question has issues with it. We've lost too many good men to angry Immortals." Joe was studying the young man intently. He couldn't figure out how the kid could know who it was. "Well Sanders? What makes you think that you know who it is?"

Greg felt all eyes on him, he felt somewhat powerful, knowing what no one else did. He gave them a smile. "Ya know, I keep telling you guys….I'm not just a pretty face. I was made a CSI cuz I'm pretty smart. I notice things. I'm observant. I am not a CSI on my looks alone. I realize, that it helps, but that's not why-"

"Greg!" Warrick roared, causing the younger man to jerk to attention. "Just tell me what you think you know!"

"Well, I just noticed something…..about Joe. Something that I have seen somewhere else. Adam has it too, which he told me was because he pretended to be a Watcher for a while." Greg stammered nervously. No one had made him this nervous except Grissom, and he didn't like the fact that his friend was causing his nerves to jumble. "Geez, Warrick! Stop glaring at me like that or I won't tell you a thing."

"Greg." Warrick warned softly which was even worse than having yelled. It was when Warrick was quiet that he was most dangerous, like a cat about to pounce.

"The tattoo! Okay, Joe and Adam have a tattoo on their wrist. Your Watcher has the same tattoo! I've noticed it." Greg blurted out.

Warrick looked to Adam and Joe for confirmation. Adam held out his wrist for display. Warrick frowned, not recognizing it. With a sigh, Joe pulled his sleeve back and let Warrick look at his tattoo.

"Is he right?" Warrick questioned in that sinisterly soft voice.

"Yes, it's the symbol of a Watcher." Joe admitted. "It's how we recognize one another. There are so many in our society that we don't always know who is a member and who is not."

"Warrick, calm yourself. This guy has done you no harm." Mac cut in. "He's just hanging around for prosperities sake. I admit I had a problem with this when I found out, but I've learned that these guys really don't mean any harm."

Warrick acted as if he hadn't heard his elder. Greg regretted his big mouth. He wished he had not felt the need to gloat about how smart he was. He liked the person in question and he was not sure what Warrick would do when he found out how badly he had been betrayed. Warrick was glowering down at Greg, who winced. "Greg! Tell me now! Who is my Watcher?"

**hmmmm...tbc**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: It's really not my fault that this is so late. I tried to update on Wednesday and Thursday but I couldn't log in. Adding to the fact that I was sick. (When you are nearly in tears due to a computer failure, it's time to take some cold medicine and go to bed).**

**Well as promised, long ago here's chapter 15. **

**Yes, Greg will reveal who Warrick's Watcher is, but first we need to visit the bad guy for a moment. It's been brought to my attention (by my lovely betas) that I haven't really shown just how evil my bad guy is. Sure, he stabbed poor Nicky, but Nick seems to get the short end of the stick all the time.**

**Okay, enough babbling. Cough syrup+ keyboard makes Dee a babbling idiot!**

**On with the show (still not owned by me!)**

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The blood was dripping from the tip of his knife. Blood red was his favorite color, but this didn't satisfy him. For some reason, this blood was not red enough. It certainly didn't taste good enough. Now that he'd had the taste of the pre-Immortal, nothing was satisfying him, not even the helpless woman, whimpering under his foot. She was a bleeder, and Coy Morgan liked that in a woman.

This just wasn't what he wanted. He'd thought to lift his spirits with a little torturing and killing, but the frustration of not finding his prey was overwhelming. Damn that stupid Immortal! How dare he take his victims from him and hide them! He'd done his homework. Warrick Brown was out of the game. He'd had no contact with other Immortals. He should have been rusty and ill prepared.

Instead, just in time to save his sorry ass, he calls in for back up. Coy had never heard of an Immortal doing that. Nothing was going as he had planned. It should have been so easy! How had he misjudged the situation? He was supposed to have taken Warrick Brown's head days ago. It should have been simple, without much of a fight. That's how he liked it. He needed to get Brown's head! Afterwards, all he wanted to have the time to play with the other two. He wanted to make them pay for his frustration. He wanted to make them scream for mercy. It would be useless. He would give no mercy.

The woman whimpered in fear once again, bringing his attention back to her. Usually that sound was a good sound to his ears, but all it did was aggravate his nerves. Looking down at her, Coy tried to find joy in all the blood that he had drawn out of her, but it did no good. Warrick Brown and his two followers were ruining all his fun!

Coy gave the woman a cold smile that frightened her one last time. Her face held that look of utter fear even as death took hold. He took a moment to relish the loud crack that her neck made as he killed her. With a sigh, he shook his head. This was a waste of time. Nothing short of killing those three would make him happy. He had to find a way to draw them out. He needed to find them before they completely escaped.

Wiping his knife off on her lifeless body, he contemplated his choices. He could wait for Warrick to come out of hiding, or he could use one of his friends as bait. Coy had used up all the patience for waiting that he had, so that only left a little fishing expedition. Time to head back to his lookout across from the CSI building.

His decision made, Coy wondered which one he should use. He'd seen Warrick with a handful of them outside of work. The blonde woman was a good choice; she'd already made him mad by interfering with him before. The one that he had attacked had hung out with the dark haired woman a few times. There was an Asian man that had been to Warrick's apartment several times the last couple of days, looking for the missing Immortal. Any one of those would probably draw Warrick out of hiding. It would make him come running to the rescue.

It was the older man that intrigued him. He looked as he would be a fun one to torture. It might be fun to try to drag some reactions out of him. Perhaps he would do that later. No, if you wanted bait for a man like Warrick Brown, you had to use a woman. Coy didn't think it mattered which one. It was only a matter of which one gave him the opportunity to grab.

Coy chortled quietly to himself. Yes, tonight he would grab whichever woman was handy. Then, all he had to do was sit back and wait. Warrick would come running to the rescue, more aptly; he would be running to his death. A small sniveling sound drew his attention to the other occupants of the room. He smiled, he had almost forgotten them. He stalked over to where he had left them, bound and gagged, lying on the floor. His nose crinkled in distaste as he caught the telltale odor. One of them had wet themselves. Looking them over, he frowned, the older one had been the one to make the offending offering.

"Well boys, what shall I do with you?" Coy liked the reaction he got from the older boy. The boy's brown eyes were nearly bugging out of his skull as he stared, transfixed, at the knife that had mutilated his mother. "This, my friends, is a fine hunting knife. It's made especially for skinning animals. Are you animals, like your mother? She bled a lot. I like to see lots of blood. What about you? Do you like blood? Do you bleed a lot?"

The older boy whimpered in distress, struggling vainly to get loose. Coy ignored him, it was just irritating. Instead, he turned his attention to the younger boy. This boy was not moving, he was not struggling. He simply lay there, watching Coy with glistening green eyes. He didn't look afraid. He didn't stare at the knife in horror. He was looking at Coy with…..hatred. For someone so small, the boy seemed to hold a lot of hate in him. For some odd reason, Coy liked that. He respected hate, that was something he could understand. It wasn't like fear. Fear was an emotion that Coy couldn't remember.

Hunkering down in front of the small boy, Coy brought the knife up and caressed the boy's arm with it. "Do you hate me, kid? Yes, yes you do, don't you. I can feel it radiating from you. Ah, yes! I think I have the perfect idea for you." With a glance at the door, Coy made sure that it was firmly locked, should the kid get out of his grasp, he would never get out the door before Coy reached him. Knowing this, he felt safe in cutting the boy's binds. The boy slowly rose up off of the floor, continuing to glare at Coy. Except for a glance at the locked door, he made no move to escape. Coy admired the boy's tenacity.

"Well boy, let's play a little game." Coy informed him as he handed the knife to him. The youngster took the knife and stared at it in shock. When the green gaze returned to Coy, he laughed. "Yes, let's play. Shall I tell you the rules?"

No sound came out of the boy as he nodded, yes; he wanted to know what the game was.

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Greg looked around at the men gathered around. They offered no protection from the stalking African-American. Greg suddenly understood what if felt like to be hunted by a lion. There was no way he could get out of this. Perhaps, in a hundred years, he might be able to learn to keep his big mouth shut.

"Archie." Greg whispered with obvious reluctance. He felt as if he were betraying the technician. He felt like he was feeding his friend to the wolves. He was offering him up to save his own skin.

"Archie?" Warrick repeated unbelievingly. "Archie-Archie?"

"Archie Johnson." Greg nodded. "He has the tattoo. I've seen it. I just kind of assumed it had something to do with Star Trek or some other Science Fiction thing he's into."

"Well, in a way, it is." Nick commented quietly. Everyone's attention was drawn to him at this. He quirked up his mouth in a half-smile. "I mean, think about it. What's more Sci-Fi than immortality and sword fighting?"

"Yeah….that would definitely be right up Archie's alley." Warrick snorted. He stomped a few steps away from the others. He had to think. Archie was a friend. At least, Warrick had thought he was. He paced back and forth, feeling frustrated. Why did his Watcher have to turn out to be a friend?

He could have handled it if it had been Hodges. He would have loved to have a real reason to be pissed at Hodges. Hodges was the type of guy that you disliked for no particular reason. If it had been Bobby, it would have been upsetting, but acceptable. Bobby had never been more than a friend at work. They'd never taken the friendship out of the workplace.

But, Archie? Archie, who had been a friend. Archie, who had brought beers when he came over to watch the Super Bowl with them. Had Archie really been interested in the game? Or, had he used it as an excuse to get into Warrick's home? Had he planted cameras and listening devices in the apartment while he was there?

"I need to talk to Archie!" Warrick muttered angrily.

Adam had taken it upon himself to dig out the food Warrick had brought. He was in the process of divvying it out when he heard Warrick's utterance. Chomping hungrily on a hamburger, he brought another to Nick. He swallowed the bite as he glanced over at Warrick before suggesting smoothly. "Wait on that for now. We need to focus on the threat at hand. I normally don't step into someone else's fray, but since this Immortal is targeting those unable to protect themselves, I decided to help out. I think we should worry about getting him out of the picture before we worry about personal vendettas."

"And why should I wait to confront the man who has repeatedly invaded my privacy?" The big man snarled.

"Archie isn't a threat to us, but this guy is! We can't stay holed up here forever!" Greg snapped back. "I appreciate that we are here for our own good, but we are grown men! We have jobs to go to!" Greg looked over at Nick and grinned devilishly. "Well, I have a job to go to…..Nick, as usual, has a doctor to visit."

"Greg," Nick lowered his burger from his mouth, leveling an evil glare at his friend. "Bite me."

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Sara sat inside her car and watched the building. Warrick had entered the building covertly. If she hadn't been expecting him, she wouldn't have seen him. Nothing had happened from where she sat, but then, she couldn't see inside of the third floor windows. She figured this was the reason Warrick had chosen this particular spot for his hideout.

She debated what she should do. She could go to Grissom, confess what she knew. Then all she would have to do is stand back and watch the fireworks between them. The Sara Sidle of old would have done that. She would have reported to Grissom or even Ecklie, but she was a different Sara now. She had changed over the years she'd been in Las Vegas. She liked to think that she had changed for the better.

She had lightened up. She was still dedicated to her job, but her fellow CSI's had shown her that there were other things in life. Nick's ordeal last year had brought the team closer together. They were more than co-workers. They were a team, a family.

In the beginning, she had hated Warrick. He had had the respect that she felt she deserved. Over the years, she had grown to respect the man. She'd come to see what Grissom had see all along. Warrick was bright, motivated, dedicated and most of all, he was loyal to his friends. He was a great CSI and an even greater friend. Even when it was obvious that she didn't like him, he'd stepped up for her on more than one occasion.

He'd done the same for the others. Last year, when they'd discovered there were explosives in the hole with Nick, Warrick had refused to leave his friend. It was all that Grissom could do to get the big man out of that hole. Afterwards, Warrick had been the first one at Nick's side.

It wasn't just Nick that he'd shown such loyalty to. He'd pulled her butt out of harm's way too. When she'd been so determined to collect evidence from a closet full of pipe bombs, he'd stayed by her side, even when it was obvious that he wanted to get away.

Therefore, if Warrick was willing to risk his career to protect Nick and possibly Greg, Sara suspected that there was a real reason behind his actions. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, glaring at the building. She had to make a choice here.

She wanted to trust Warrick. She knew he was smart, obviously he was to have a preplanned hideout for instances such as this. She had suspected that he was probably a better CSI than she was, even though she had discovered his hideout. He seemed to know what he was doing at all times, this couldn't be any different.

The real problem was that she envied the closeness the guys shared. She wished they would let her into their fold. Perhaps she would have to force their hand? Perhaps she could make them let her in, by knowing their secrets.

The secret hideout of Warrick's was the Trump card. Sara just had to know when to play it to the best advantage.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I must apologize for not thanking my reviewers last chapter. I had a record number of reviews and fanficiton being down got me so down that I forgot to thank you guys. My bad, I admit. Even with my lack of verbal or, written appreciation please know that you have really helped me along.**

**Okay, here goes...**

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"I need access to a computer." Joe stated as the remains of the food were cleared away. "Do any of you have a laptop? Mine is in the shop, or I would have brought mine." He looked around expectantly at the three CSI's. They had the nerve to look embarrassed as they shook their heads to the negative. "No? None of you have a laptop?"

"We have computers at work, so we've never really needed our own personal computer." Greg rationalized, as if that explained it all. "Most of the time, when we are not at work, we're sleeping. No real need for a computer."

"I used to have a computer at home, but I had a bad experience with someone hacking into it…and my life. After that, I got rid of it." Nick admitted. He didn't think he would ever get over the experience of having a stalker. After all that, he learns that not only will he live forever, but will forever have a stalker.

"Where can I get access to a computer?" Joe questioned impatiently.

"Public Library?" Greg offered innocently, happy that he had a suggestion when the others did not.

"No good. You can't access Watcher files from a public computer." Joe frowned at Greg, as if he should know this information. As if he should know better than to suggest something so ridiculous. "Anyone you know have a computer? Someone you trust."

Nick and Greg exchanged looks and shrugged in confusion. Warrick wandered back over to the group, listening to the conversation.

"Geez! What century are you guys in?" Richie chuckled. Greg suddenly had a look of dawning on his face at the young Immortals' words. That was a phrase another had used on him before.

"Archie has one." Greg finally announced albeit reluctantly because of Warrick's newfound irritation with the lab-tech. "He's always talking about all the bytes and gigs it has."

"I am not asking HIM for help!" Warrick thundered. Greg took an involuntary step backwards, blinking wide-eyed. He wasn't sure what to make of this new Warrick. He'd never experienced Warrick so explosive. He didn't want to be the one to learn what would push him over the edge he seemed to be on.

"Warrick." Nick's voice was calm, almost soothing as he spoke to his friend. Nick was always the one able to calm Warrick down, unless he was the one to upset him. When it was Nick that set Warrick off, it fell upon Catherine to smooth things over. "Archie is our friend. No matter what else he may be, he's our friend."

"He's no longer my friend." Warrick looked over at the wounded man. The expression on his face was twisted, showing the conflicting emotions. Greg could see how betrayed Warrick was feeling and felt a twinge of anger at Archie. Warrick didn't trust easily and he had trusted Archie. Warrick didn't make friends easily and he had accepted Archie as a friend. He had let him into his life and into his home. Greg understood how Warrick could feel wronged by Archie. "Obviously, he has never been my friend! We are not asking him for help!"

"I'm sorry? Just when did you become my king and commander?" Nick spat back. Warrick's look darkened to one of pure anger, but he said nothing.

Nick held Warrick's gaze without backing down. Warrick may be a pro at staring someone down, but Nick Stokes was never one to back down from Warrick's anger. Finally, Warrick relented. "I won't ask that man for help!" His back rigid with anger, he stalked back across the room to be by himself.

"Well, he's still my friend!" Nick called after him. He didn't seem to be afraid of causing Warrick to completely lose his cool. It always amazed Greg how these two could constantly be at one another's throat, piss each other off and still remain the best of friends. "I'll ask him for help."

"Nick!" Warrick spun back towards them, fists clenching at his sides. The glare he was aiming at his friend made Greg feel a tremor of fear run through him. He was glad the anger was not aimed towards him.

"Warrick." Nick sighed, his voice returning to calm. "Right now we can't afford to let personal feelings get in the way. This isn't just about you. Greg and I have a say in this too. We'd like to get back to our lives."

"I'm not asking him!" Warrick flared angrily, but by looking at all of his friends' expressions, he saw that he was losing the battle. Finally, he conceded, "He had better stay out of my way!"

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Catherine stalked across the parking lot and into the motel room. It was her one day off and she'd been called in. She was livid. She saw the object of her discontentment as soon as she entered the room. Gil Grissom looked up from the body and rose as she approached.

"I'm sorry Catherine." Was all he said. How dare he apologize! Catherine thought angrily. That was uncalled for! That was playing dirty! She glared at him again.

"It's not fair to apologize to me when I'm all prepared to yell at you." She snapped. Gil blinked in surprise at her tone and it made her feel a little better about not getting to yell at him.

"Sorry?" He questioned, unsure if he would be in trouble for apologizing once again, or if this one was okay. He looked perplexed. The complexities of human emotions seemed to be the bane of his existence. He would never fully understand them, which meant the complexity of a woman's emotions was eons away from his grasp.

"Gil, You'll never get it, so don't try." Catherine sighed in exasperation. "What have we got? What do you want me to do?"

"Woman in her mid-thirties found mutilated. Room is registered to a Cyndi Lamarax. Haven't found any I.D, but even if we had it there's no way to know for sure until Al has her in his lab. There's nothing even remotely human-like left on the body." Grissom gave her the rundown, lifting the sheet to let her have a look at the gruesome remains.

Catherine frowned across the room at what looked like to be another body under a white sheet. "If this is the woman…..who is that?"

"Child. Male, approximately eight years old. Ms. Lamarax checked in with two children." Gil replied stiffly. Catherine's frown increased as she walked across the small room and squatted next to the sheet covered body. Slapping on a pair of latex gloves, she took a deep breath and peeled back the sheet. A dead child was what all CSI's dreaded the most, and Catherine was no exception.

The child didn't look mutilated like the other body. The boy looked like he was sleeping; his eyes had even been closed. "Did someone close his eyes?"

"Responding officer claims to have just checked for vitals and that was it." Grissom was suddenly looking over her shoulder.

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Archie Johnson turned and glared at his phone as it rang. He was tired and he was cranky. He still couldn't find Warrick and was beginning to get frantic about it. If you lost your Immortal, you weren't that good of a Watcher. Joe Dawson hadn't contacted him as he had said he would, so he was out of luck finding out if Warrick was with the other Immortal. He really didn't want to have to report to the Watchers that he had lost his subject. They didn't take kindly to mistakes such as that.

The phone rang again and he reached for it. The number on the LCD screen was not one that he recognized. Perhaps it would be Dawson. "Johnson."

"Hey, Arch." A familiar Texan twanged in his ear.

"Ni-"

"Unless you're alone, don't announce that it's me." Nick cut him off with the warning. "Are you alone?"

"No." Archie looked across the break room where Hodges was eating his lunch. The other labrat didn't act as if he was paying any attention to him, but Archie knew that Hodges was a brown-noser, he was liable to be eavesdropping just to see if there was something he could go running to Grissom about. He cleared his throat, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. It seemed like he'd just stepped into a B-movie. "Something I can do for you, Babe?"

"Yep." A short chuckle accompanied the reply. Nick's Texas accent seemed to be turned up on high as he spoke to Archie. "My friends and I are in some deep shit. We need you to supply the shovels to dig ourselves out with...Darling."

"What do you need?" Archie got up and headed out of the room, hoping to look casual about it. He wondered where to go to be in private. Suspicions would rise if he went into a closet for a phone call. His lab was full as the dayshift was working on video surveillance of a drugstore robbery. Finally, he strolled down the hall and into the bathroom. He checked the stalls to make sure he was alone before locking the main door. Just to be on the safe side, he leaned against the door.

"For starters, I have a friend in need of a computer. Any chance we can get a hold of your laptop? Away from work and away from your home?"

"Yeah, I've got my laptop with me. Just tell me when and where." Archie agreed eagerly. He was eager to get back on Warrick's trail, but equally as important, he wanted to make sure his three missing friends were all okay. "And who….I guess."

"Well, before we get into that…..I think I should warn you. Your secret is out." Nick informed him bluntly.

"My secret?" Archie frowned in confusion, wondering what Nick could be talking about. He couldn't think of any secret he had that Nick would know about.

"Yes, your secret. You've kept a secret from us. Warrick's kept a secret from us that you knew about…….Now I know both of your secrets and I have one of my own." Nick chortled, trying to sound sinister, but his Texas drawl only made him sound playful instead.

"M-m-my secret?" Archie stuttered, there was only one secret of Warrick's that he knew about. That meant that something had happened to cause Warrick to reveal what he really was. Had Dawson lied about MacLeod being a friend of Warrick's? Had the big brute attacked Warrick in front of Nick? Questions swirled in the technicians head. Warrick must be safe by the sound of Nick. If something had happened to the CSI, Nick would have fallen apart.

"Yes. You have the clue to your secret written in blue. You wear that answer under your watchband." Nick taunted.

Archie felt his heart rate drop as his gaze dropped down to his wrist. His Watcher tattoo glared back at him. The answer was, indeed, written in blue. "Oh! Oh, geez. Does HE know?"

"Yeah." Nick's voice was soft, as if he were suddenly feeling sympathy for him.

"Is he mad?" Archie asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words left his mouth. Of course Warrick Brown was mad! Warrick would be beyond mad. He would…..be out for blood, Archie Johnson's blood!

"Well, you don't need a flack jacket yet……but a restraining order might come in handy." Nick sounded compassionate, which Archie took as a good sign. If Nick wasn't mad, then perhaps he might keep Warrick from tearing him limb from limb.

"I never meant any harm." The Asian began to explain. The more he could convince Nick to be on his side, the better. "He's really a good guy. I would never use any of this against him-"

"Look, save it for when he confronts you. I know you well enough to know you're not trying to hurt him. Heck, Warrick knows it too. He's just angry and a little hurt right now. He'll come around. He just needs a little time to cool off, don't worry. He's a little overly stressed right now. He feels like you've betrayed him. Perhaps, if you can help us out of our jam, he'll be able to see what's what."

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tbc...


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Sorry this wasn't posted last night. I wasn't in the land of the living yesterday. Woke up in time to watch CSI. Why did Warrick only show up to sniff the DB's shorts? sigh **

**Here's chapter 17, thanks for sticking with me. My betas are trying to convince me that I need to make a 30th chapter for this fic...thinking about it. Still doing rewrites for the chapters I have.**

**Disclaimer: If they were mine, Warrick would actually get some screentime!**

Nick sat up with a yawn. His internal clock was still set on graveyard shift time and he knew that he was late, had he been going to work today. The place was oddly quiet, except for Greg's snoring. His fellow CSI as obviously one that relied on an actual alarm clock, he didn't look to be stirring anytime soon.

Looking around, he saw Richie and Mac on the couch. Richie was sprawled out, sleeping with a book open on his chest. Mac had actually been reading a book, except that he was now looking over at Nick with interest. His dark eyes were studying him intently, as if he were able to assess how he was feeling.

"Feeling better?" He asked softly.

"Yeah. Where is everyone?" Nick asked, grunting as he levered himself out of the bed.

"Methos took Joe to meet with the other Watcher." Mac answered, before pointing out the obvious. "The meeting you arranged."

"Yeah." Nick nodded. "Why do you call him Methos, while the others call him Adam?"

"We call him as we see him. For a while, the others didn't know him as Methos, just Adam. They still see him as the Watcher-Scholar, Adam. I see him as the old Immortal he is…….I see him as Methos." Mac explained carefully. "It's all about how you look at him. Never look at an Immortal by what he shows you. You have to look deeper, see the man inside the Immortal."

"Speaking of Immortal men, where's Warrick?" Nick frowned, realizing his friend was still unaccounted for.

"Up on the roof." Mac answered. He watched as Nick staggered towards the hidden opening that led to the roof. "Don't sneak up on him. He's got his sword. Let him know you're there."

Nick didn't think he could sneak up on a deaf man as he climbed the short flight of stairs that led to the roof. His breathing was harsh and heavy. Every step hurt and he had no ability to remain quiet about it. He seemed to grunt and groan with every step. At the top, he stopped and leaned against a cement block. He made sure that he was well out of the way, but could still see and be seen by his wayward friend.

Warrick, clad only in a pair of green boxer shorts, did indeed have his sword with him. Although the Las Vegas evening was growing cool, he was dripping with sweat as he swung his sword. Nick was awed by the way Warrick handled the sword, fighting some unseen foe. It was almost poetic, the way Warrick moved. It would have been, if not for the fierce look on his face. Warrick looked nothing like the Warrick Brown Nick knew. This Warrick was enraged. This Warrick was savage. He was battling as if he were trying to kill whoever or whatever he was seeing.

"You need to heal up so we can work on your fighting skills." Warrick suddenly spoke up; the only indication that he knew Nick was near. With a final swing of his sword, he ended the pretend battle. "You sneak as well as a heard of buffalo."

"Since I've already been used like a pincushion this week, I figured sneaking up on a man with a sharp sword wouldn't be the best idea." Nick chuckled. "So I wasn't trying to sneak."

"Good thinking." Warrick nodded, lowering his sword as he padded over to Nick. "How ya feeling?"

"Not bad, considering I thought I was as good as dead a couple of days ago." Only with Warrick could Nick admit his feelings. His words spoke volumes to his astute friend.

"Well, I'm real glad that you're not dead." Warrick grinned.

"What are you doing up here in nothing but your skivvies?" Nick frowned, looking down at the bare brown feet before him. "Doesn't the roof make your feet hurt?"

"Hell yeah! But, it's called conditioning. You have to be able to fight, no matter what. You have to overcome the pain you feel. Your opponent won't allow you to stop if you stub your toe."

"This doesn't seem real." Nick out a heavy sigh.

"It will." Warrick promised. "but I'll try to make sure it doesn't have to be real to you for a while yet."

"How? How can you do that?" Keep me locked up in your tower so the evils of the world can't get to me?" Nick scoffed, immediately irritated at the thought of being coddled and babied.

"No, just this one evil. I'm going after that bastard. I'm going to kill him before he gets near you again." Warrick guaranteed with a fear-provoking growl and a swipe of his sword. "I'm going head-hunting."

Nick stared at the sword with a look of sadness that he made no attempt to hide from his best friend. Warrick immediately felt contrite. Nick had had a lot to deal with the last couple of days and Warrick hadn't taken the time to help him cope. "You okay?"

"What?" Nick looked up into the concerned green eyes, he saw the guilt in Warrick's eyes and tried to give him a grin. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm a little sore, but I've had worse."

"I'm not asking about the physical stuff. Are YOU okay? I know this is a lot to take in."

Nick leaned again the cement wall and shrugged. "This immortal stuff? Yeah, it's hard to swallow. I'm not too fond of the idea, but….I'll deal with it like I deal with everything else……one step at a time."

"And the fact that we are all foundlings? You don't have a problem with that?" Warrick's gaze narrowed. "The fact that we can't have children?"

"The parents went to a lot of trouble to hide the fact that I was adopted….they'll be disappointed about me not having kids."

"You knew?"

"Yeah, found the papers when I was sixteen. I figured they would tell me when they felt it necessary. I guess they haven't yet." Nick answered with a slight shrug. "I'm happy with my life as Nick Stokes, I have no desire to search out my real parents."

"Good thing." Warrick chuckled. "There has never been an Immortal who has been able to find their birth parents. You were lucky, having a set of good parents to raise you."

"I know."

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"Well, Al? What have we got?" Gil Grissom called out as he entered the morgue. He was pulling on gloves as he crossed to the other man. "Any news on who our victims are?"

"Yes. As soon as I got your call, I requested the dental records of Cyndi Lamarax. I put a rush on the impressions. It came back positive. This is indeed, Ms. Lamarax."

"And the child?" Grissom looked over at the boy on the next slab.

"No dental records. I'm guessing that the boy is one of her missing sons, but I can't give you a definite answer yet. I drew blood from both of them and sent time to the DNA lab. I requested that they be the top priority."

"Thanks Al." Grissom grimaced as he looked down at the boy. "Did he die first or last?"

"Far as I can tell, he died about half an hour after she did." Al Robbins answered, his attention still on the remains of the woman.

"So this sicko….mutilates the woman while the child watches. Then he simply stabs the boy?"

"Well…." The mortician frowned up at the CSI. "This is one of your more curious cases. It's very curious."

"What's so curious about it?" Catherine calls out as she stalks into the room. Both men look up at her, but with different expressions on their faces. Al, although married, feels the need to appreciate the beauty of her female form. He gives her a smile of welcoming.

"What are you doing in here?" Gil is giving her a look of disapproval that she promptly shrugs off.

"You made me come in on my day off. You called me to the party, so I'm here." Catherine looks at him with challenge blazing in her eyes. Al's attention is torn from the body before him to watch the pair before him. It was fun to see the sparks fly between the two. Catherine's emotions were written clearly on her face. It was obvious that she wouldn't back down. Gil's face was, as usual, expressionless. He was studying her intensely, without a change in his face. Finally, he gives her a curt nod.

"Doc? You were saying?" Dismissing Catherine's unwanted appearance, Gil turned his full attention back to the mortician and the bodies.

"Well, have a look." Doc moved closer to the mutilated woman. "Perhaps you'll understand my meaning. This was a very sadistic torture. Professionally done. I'd guess that this wasn't the first person he's done this to."

"It's mutilation. How can you say it's professionally done?" Catherine scowled in disgust as she looked down at the remains.

"There are no hesitation marks. Each swipe of the knife removed the skin perfectly, without going too deep. He made her bleed profusely and….most likely….she was conscious while it was happening to her." Al pointed out various places that proved his point. "These stabbings were precise. He knew exactly where to stab her and not kill her. I'm thinking you might have another medical expert on your hands."

The mortician stepped back as the two CSI's crowded close to examine the punctures he mentioned. "Each stab was the exact depth and the exact angle needed to avoid immediate death. He wanted her to hurt and to bleed before he snapped the neck to kill her."

"So, you think this might be the work of a serial killer?" Grissom questioned, his eyes never leaving the body.

"It's nothing that's ever came through this morgue." Al admitted. "If I were in charge of this case, I'd wonder if this man has been doing this somewhere else."

"I'll check." Catherine took the hint.

Satisfied that his judgment was being considered, Al turned and moved over to the child's body. "It looks completely different over here. Catherine? Care to tell the class what's different about this one?"

Catherine frowned at the older man. She moved around to the next slab, trying not to look at the child's face. A dead child always affected her more than anything else did. It affected everyone on the team, but she and Nicky always reacted the worst. "No mutilation, just punctures." She stated the obvious before looking closer. "They're…..haphazard. They don't look very professional or precise at all."

"Exactly!" Al nodded pointing to one puncture on the boy's just. "This one here was the one that killed him, but he was already dying form the previous strikes. What seems oddest to me are the depths of these strikes. It's as if he wasn't really trying. This one here only went in half an inch, in fact, most are like that. There is no precision in the strikes, not in the depths and not in the angles. On the woman, everything was done with a reason and intended to cause as much pain and suffering as possible."

"So, our killer wasn't using his full strength?" Grissom's brow puckered in concentration as he puzzled over this new information.

"Or there was a second killer. One did the woman while the other watched and then vise-versa?" Catherine suggested. "It's been done before."

"Or, this could be someone with a split personality." Gil countered.

"I'm just a mortician, not a psychiatrist." Al told them dryly. "My job is to examine the body. It's your job to figure this out.

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"I think Archie Johnson knows something about where Warrick and the others are." David Hodges told Sara as she came into the Trace Lab.

"Did you have the results for me, or did you just call me in her to talk about others behind their backs?" Sara snapped, stopping in the doorway.

"Of course, I have your results." Hodges rolled his eyes as he handed over the printout. "I just thought you might be interested to know. The guys are all in deep trouble with Dr. Grissom for their disappearing trick. Johnson got a weird phone call during lunch while we were in the break room. He went and hid himself in the bathroom to talk. When he came out, he clocked himself out, claiming he had a doctor's appointment."

"And you think this has to do with the guys……how?" Sara was determined not to sound excited.

"From what I could hear, it sounded like he was talking to Nick Stokes." Hodges smirked at the fact that he had her complete attention. "Strange that he gets a call from Stokes, then takes off. He's done a disappearing trick just like the others."

"You have no actual proof that it was Nick, nor do you know that Archie is not at a doctor's office." Sara glared at the man. He got on her nerves. "I would suggest you keep this to yourself until you find yourself some solid evidence to back you up. You know that Grissom does not like false accusations, nor does he like backstabbing."

Having said this, Sara spun on her heel and left the lab. It shocked her that she was actually irritated at the man for doing the exact thing that she had considered. She worried that Hodges would ignore her advice and tell Grissom. Would this interfere with whatever Warrick was doing to protect Nick and Greg? Would Archie be able to remain quiet if Grissom questioned him?

She had to find Archie and warn him. If she could not find Archie, then she would go to Warrick himself and warn him that his secret was about to be uncovered. Looking at the results of the sample she had taken from her last crime scene, she realized that her case was as good as solved. She would worry about the guys as soon as she got a detective to make an arrest for her.

**tbc...**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: A tad bit shorter chapter, but one with a lot to say. I was asked where this was going with Sara and Cath...this might answer that...or maybe not. The ladies are the stars of this chapter, so let me know what you think:)**

**I have a long, rough week ahead of me, so I doubt if I can get the next chapter out any sooner than Thursday.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned them...1 Warrick would have more screentime. 2 Nick and Warrick would work together more. I love the interaction between the two of them. 3. Greggo would still be a labrat, he was adorable there. Until those three things happen, there's no doubt that I don't own them!**

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"Well?" Grissom looked over his glasses at Catherine as she dropped into the chair opposite from him. It was late into the next shift and neither of them had been home, nor had they gotten any rest.

"You are not going to like what I have to say." Catherine sighed. She was tired. She was frustrated. She was pissed, and she was worried. She wanted to take it all out on someone, but she wasn't sure whom. It varied between Gil and Warrick. Since Warrick was out of pocket, she aimed her glare at Gil Grissom.

"Why don't you tell me and I can make my own judgment?" Gil snapped, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be as tired and cranky as she was, which made Catherine feel a little bit better.

"I found similar cases in five different states. All are unsolved, and all have about as much to go on as we do." Catherine smirked sardonically at him. "The catch is….the most recent one was in Nineteen fifty-seven."

"Forty-nine years ago?" Gil frowned, doing the math in his head. "Okay, so our killer is in his sixties? It's not impossible."

"Except, I haven't told you when the other killings were." Catherine pressed on. "Nineteen forty-four in Utah. Nineteen thirty in New Mexico and Nineteen oh-five in New York."

"So……our killer is a hundred and twenty?" Gil heaved a sigh. This week was getting worse and worse. He was missing three of his CSI's. One of them had been nearly killed. Now, he had an unfeasible case. On days like this, he wondered why he didn't just retire.

"Or, it's some sort of cult killings. They teach the next generation to kill the same way. Some sort of ritual sacrifice?" Catherine suggested.

"Good…..that's a workable rationalization." Gil nodded. "But why haven't we heard of such a cult? Why such a long gap? Two generations between killings? Anything on the internet?"

"No." Catherine shook her head. "But, while I was researching this, I did find another similar attack. A much more recent attack. One of our cases, in fact."

"Yeah? Which case?" Gil pondered the idea. He glanced up at the board that held all of their unsolved cases. "We haven't had any cases where someone has been mutilated such as this."

"No. However, we had a stabbing, just like Lamarax and the victim in fifty-seven. The same type of knife was used as the Lamarax stabbing, and Lamarax has a stab in the exact same position as the one I found. It's the same kind of knife used in both cases."

"Really? And it happened before Lamarax? How recently?"

"This week."

"Really? I don't remember pulling another D.B that was a victim of a stabbing. Are you sure it was one of our cases?" Grissom argued. He prided himself in having a good memory. It wasn't like him to forget something such as this, so she had to be wrong.

"Our victim wasn't a D.B. He survived."

"Then it can't be the same guy." Grissom dismissed the thought. "A killer like this doesn't leave someone alive. He enjoys the torturing and killing too much."

"He was interrupted. He didn't get to finish." Catherine countered. "I know this, because I was the one who interrupted him. The victim was Nicky."

"Nick?" Gil frowned. "You are saying, this killer is after Nick?"

"Yes. I'm saying this is the very same person that attacked Nick. I interrupted him, so he went on to the next victim." Catherine reiterated. "And if he's like all other killers that have been interrupted, he won't be satisfied until he finishes the job. Which means, Nicky is in danger unless we catch this freak?"

"So, as long as Warrick keeps him hidden, this guy will be looking for Nick?" Gil deliberated aloud. "How did Warrick know this? Why wouldn't he share this with us? And what does Greg have to do with all of this?"

"It gets better." David Hodges spoke up from the open doorway. "Archie Johnson is now M.I.A also."

"Archie?" Catherine frowned.

"From what I overheard of him on the phone, Archie got a call from Nick. He then clocked out and tore out of here, only stopping to grab his laptop." Hodges had the nerve to look smug. "That was…..over eight hours ago. He hasn't been answering his cell since."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Grissom demanded. He didn't like the snarky tech, and if Hodges wasn't as good at the job as he was, he would have been fired long ago.

"I mentioned it to Sara, and she told me not to say anything to you. If you ask me, she was acting rather suspicious too." Hodges seemed to take great enjoyment out of offering this opinion.

Catherine pulled her cell out of her pocket and hit Sara's number. It went straight to her voicemail. She turned around and called Sara's home number. The answering machine picked up after the fourth ring. Clicking her own phone off, she looked nervously at Grissom. "Sara's not answering. Where would she be?"

"Why does everyone on my team keep disappearing?" Gil wanted to know, his own anxiety beginning to surface. Turning his attention to Hodges, he let out a calm threat. "None of this goes any farther than the three of this, got that?"

"Sure, you're the boss." Hodges sneered insolently.

"What do we do now?" Catherine whispered. "Where is Sara?"

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Sara sat in her car, once again staring at what looked like an abandoned building. She knew better. She knew her so-called friends were in there. It was bad enough that they had left her out of this, but if they had actually pulled Archie into this instead of her……

She couldn't even think of a threat that would show them exactly how angry and hurt she actually was. She considered letting Hodges go to Grissom. She should just let them feel the wraith of their very irritated shift leader. Except, she didn't think that Gil was all that irritated anymore. By the look in his eyes, he had grown worried about his boys.

He and Catherine were like two loving parents. At the time the guys disappeared, they had been angry at their disobedience. The longer their boys stayed missing, the more Grissom and Catherine began to worry. She knew that they had Brass looking for them, unofficially.

From what she could tell, the guys were not budging from this building. Whatever it was that had Warrick hiding his friends away must be something fierce. Nick, even injured, wasn't one to let things keep him from his job. He'd been thrown out windows, buried, guns in his face, but he kept on coming back.

Sara had just about decided that it was time she paid the guys a visit when someone knocked on her car window. She'd been so engrossed in her thoughts, that she hadn't seen the man approach. He gave her a friendly smile and motioned for her to unroll the window.

Sara gave the window a little crack. "Yes?"

"You've been sitting here a long time." The tall man was leaning down a bit so he could look her in the eye. "I was wondering if you were having trouble? Waiting for a tow?"

"No…..um….well…." Sara didn't know what to say to the man. He was giving her a nice, charming smile, but the look in his eyes didn't seem so charming. His blue eyes were full of devilment, they almost seemed sinister. "I was just….sitting here…..collecting my thoughts."

"You must have a lot of thoughts to collect." He laughed, running his finger along the top edge of the window. "You've been sitting here for three hours."

"Well, yes…….I just needed some time alone." Sara glanced down at her watch. He was right! She'd clocked out of work three and a half hours ago. She looked up at him, studying him.

"And this isn't the first time you've been sitting here. You were here for a long time yesterday too!" He informed her accusingly.

"How would you know? Who are you?" Sara grew suspicious and a little frightened. Was this man following her? If he attacked her, who would know where she was?

"My name's Jake Tucker. I run security here. It's my job to keep care of these here buildings." The charming smile was back. Sara frowned, looking around at the graffiti and broken windows. If he was really the security around here, there was obvious reason he was only a rent a cop. He obviously hadn't been doing that great of a job. "It's my job to see who all is here and why."

"You don't look much like a rent-a-cop." Sara eyed him. "Where's your uniform?"

"At the cleaners." He replied smoothly, the smile remaining in place but it was somewhat eerie looking in Sara's opinion.

"What company do you work for? Where's your identification?" Sara demanded, growing disconcerted at his lies and not liking the ongoing smile.

"My identification?" He looked surprised. "Right here, of course!" He made as to get something out of his pocket, but before she could blink, he gave the window a yank and then a shove and it fell. He had effectively got the window off the runner and it crashed down into the door, leaving absolutely no barrier between herself and him. He pounced, grabbing her and yanking her through the now open window. She struggled, but he was much stronger than he looked.

He slammed her against the car, knocking the wind out of her. "I don't think you're here for the peace and quiet! You see, I think you're here for the same reasons I am. Three reasons, right? One is an angry cuss, irritable as a bear with a thorn in his paw. One is an energetic fellow, full of ideas and questions. And one…..well, he's injured, so he's not too fun at all right now? Am I correct? Am I close? You see, I know exactly why you are here. I'm here for those same reasons!" The smile was back, but Sara saw no charm in it at all, as she slowly lost consciousness.

**So...any thoughts? TBC...**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I've had a rotten week, so I'm lucky this chapter was already finished or I wouldn't be posting on time. Work has been painful and my kitty went into the hospital so it's just been a rotten week.**

**Thanks to those that posted and I got a lovely email from another reader, so that helped! I had figured that I'd get more of a reaction from the whole Sara situation, but I guess I was wrong. Perhaps you don't like Sara? Or maybe you don't think I'd actually harm one of our CSI's? I have no fear of causing great pains to any and all of the guys. : )**

**Disclaimer:  Still no ownership...maybe that's what I'll ask for my birthday! I'd love to own any and all of these guys...but I don't!**

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The group sat around the living room area once again. They were waiting for Adam to return with the takeout and groceries. Warrick had installed a refrigerator in his hideaway, but he hadn't installed any cooking implements so they had to rely on someone fetching food. Warrick had headed out, but the others had vetoed it. "You are being hunted, my friend. It's best you don't go prancing around town until we know who we are dealing with." Adam had informed him. "As far as we know, I'm an unknown. I'll go collect the food. While I'm out, I'll do some scouting around. Perhaps I can get lucky and stumble across him."

"Stay away from him! He's mine!" Warrick had snarled. Adam shrugged him off, truly unconcerned for the tough guy act.

"I won't go looking for a fight…….but should the fight come to me….." Adam had teased before hurrying to the elevator. The cranky CSI was easy to irritate and Adam enjoyed simple things like that. He also enjoyed provoking his anger and then getting to leave the others to deal with him.

Now, nearly an hour later, they were still waiting for their meal. "I should have gone." Richie grumbled. "We could all starve to death if he comes across a bookstore or a pretty face. He's easily distracted you know."

"Cool it, Rich." Mac yawned. "He has to do some shopping first."

"I shudder to imagine what brand of coffee he buys." Greg had to add is complaints in too. "Probably won't be worth wasting the water on."

"Greg, why don't you and Richie show us all that he's taught you." Warrick smacked the youngest man on the back of the head gently. "Let's see what you've got kid."

"I'm game." Richie hurdled off the couch and went to retrieve the sparring sticks. Greg grimaced as he was offered one. "What?"

"When can I use a real weapon? I feel like a child using this thing."

"When you've proven yourself proficient with this, then you graduate to something more dangerous. I don't need my head cut off accidentally." Richie informed him. "And you don't need to lose any fingers by using a sword improperly. Until you die, whatever injuries you acquire are for real and forever."

Warrick sauntered over to get a closer view of what the two were doing. It didn't take long until he was in the middle, directing Greg on how to move, how to counterattack the best way. Within a few minutes of his extreme tutoring, Greg was actually feeling like he was getting the hang of it.

"Feeling left out?" Mac asked Nick, who was sitting quietly, watching the action with an envious look.

"Yeah, if truth be told, I am." Nick sighed, his hand going to rest over his injury.

"You're a quick healer." Mac stated. "You'll be in there soon enough." He studied Nick for a moment. "Are you feeling more comfortable about what you are, or, will be?"

"I think so. I'm still not looking forward to it, but it does seem to be inevitable. I'm not one to fight useless battles." Nick admitted, smiling as Greg was knocked off his feet.

"I think I might have found our guy." Joe stated from the table he sat at with Archie's laptop. A moment later, the Immortals and Greg surrounded him. Nick stayed where he was on the couch; walking across the room seemed to be too big of a challenge for him at the moment. He'd worn himself out going up to the roof earlier. He settled for listening from afar.

"There are three known Immortals in the state of Nevada, other than you guys." Joe informed them. "One is a woman, Clarissa DeVault; she seems to be living in Reno."

"It wasn't a woman." Mac clarified as if Joe needed that clarification.

"Yes, so I immediately nixed Clarissa off our list."

"So, who is number two?" Warrick prompted, edging closer to look over Joe's shoulder.

"Cole Elliott." Joe stated questioningly. "Not much is known about this one. He's only came into the game about fifty years ago, at least that we know of. He's only been in three battles that have been logged; obviously, he was the winner of all three. Mac? Does he look familiar?" Joe turned the screen so the Immortal could see it better.

"He's got about the right color of hair, but I didn't see him very well. It was dark and as soon as he felt my presence, he took off. "Show me the next contestant."

"This is the one that seems the most likely." Joe clicked onto the next screen. "Coy Morgan. He's been around for about five hundred years. He's a mean son-of-a-gun. He's managed to kill three of his Watchers over the years."

"So, maybe he doesn't like being followed." Warrick sniped spitefully. He quieted after a warning glare aimed at him by Mac.

"He doesn't keep his killing to Immortals and Watchers alone. He targets families of Immortals. Seems to enjoy toying with the Immortal he chooses to target. He kills their family and friends before challenging the Immortal. He's been known to kill a pre-Immortal then turn around and take his head before he even fully regains consciousness."

"Sounds like our guy." Mac peered at the picture. "But, I couldn't be sure by looking at him. I really didn't get a good look at the guy. Like I said, he took off when I approached."

"I got a good look at him." Nick called out, causing everyone's attention to be drawn to him. "White-blonde hair, beady blue eyes. Looked to be about fifty-five or so."

"That sounds like the guy." Richie commented, looking at the picture of the man Nick just described.

"He's got a rough tongue. Does it say anything about that." Nick gave a harsh laugh. "Liked the taste of my blood, he said." Nick gave a shiver. Concerned, Warrick went over to his friend. This was the first that Nick had mentioned anything about the attack. Seeing the look of trepidation on the black man's face, Nick gave a distressed smile. "You know, I think I can add that to my list of dislikes. I don't like people licking my blood off my face."

"I'll get him, Nicky." Warrick vowed in a quiet voice. He was so quiet that only Nick heard the dangerous tone. "He won't get a chance to touch you again."

"So, he's after Warrick, but he's taking the scenic tour." MacLeod contemplated the new facts. "He's after anyone that means anything to Warrick, but he's also after the heads of weaker Immortals."

"There's something else." Joe drew their attention back to him and the computer. "From what I see of his kills in the last hundred years or so…..he goes after Immortals who have avoided the Game for long periods of time. This guy is preying on the weak and the ill prepared."

"Well, he preyed upon the wrong Immortal!" Warrick stood tall. "I may have been out of the fight, but I'm not unprepared. I've stayed in shape; I haven't missed a day of training in over a hundred years."

"There's a difference between fighting and training." Duncan informed him.

"Care to see how ready I am?" Warrick challenged, a brutal look on his face.

"Are you challenging me, Pup?" Duncan stood up, coming to stand before Warrick. Greg and Richie moved aside, anticipating quite a show. They circled one another, swords ready, both of them moving with practiced care.

"Hold onto that thought guys." Richie called out, as the three Immortals tensed as one. "Food's here!" Richie trotted over to the elevator a moment before the motor cranked up.

"Watch yourself, Rich." Duncan warned, lowering his sword. Everyone watched the elevator's slow progression. When the gate finally clanked open, no one moved.

"Uh, Adam……that's not Italian food." Rich moaned, being the first one to see him. "I mean, maybe back in your day, eating people was acceptable, but….."

"Sara!" Greg cried out, recognizing the unconscious woman Adam had slung over his shoulder. He dropped his stick and ran to retrieve Sara from where she was draped on the man's shoulder. "What have you done to her?"

"You know her?" Adam questioned lightly as Greg eased her off of his shoulder and carried her to the bed. Warrick stalked over to Adam, sword still clinched in his fist.

"What the hell did you do to her?" He demanded. As usual, Adam just gave him an easy-going smile and a shrug.

"I didn't hurt her, call it a Vulcan death grip, I just made her lose consciousness. She'll be fine in a few minutes."

"Care to explain yourself?" Duncan asked the older Immortal as he watched Nick slowly make his way to the bed with concern. He was weak and tired, but too stubborn to admit to either. Duncan was concerned whether he would make it all the way to the bed. Once Nick made it to the bed, Duncan relaxed and turned his full attention to his friend. "I thought Caveman tactics were finally beyond you."

"She's been sitting outside for a couple of days. By her body language, she was getting ready to come charging in. I figured I'd just help her along. Didn't know if she was friend or foe, but she could cause us some problems either way." Adam pointedly ignored the barb.

The three CSI's crowded around their unconscious friend, sending angry looks over their shoulders at Adam. Feeling bad, even though he wasn't to blame, Richie fetched a bottle of water for her. Nick took a little of the water and sprinkled it on Sara's face. Almost immediately, Sara began to stir. She opened her eyes to see the guys staring down at her, all wearing worried expressions. "I knew you guys were here." She crowed, with a scratchy voice. "I was just about to come in and find you when some creep grabbed me."

"Creep." Greg nodded. "That's just about perfect for him."

"Hey, Creep?" Richie turned to Adam. "Where's our chow?"

"Unfortunately, the creep is on our side." Warrick sighed, helping Sara to sit up. "What are you doing here, Sara?"

"Coming to warn you. Grissom is at his wits end with you guys disappearing. Hodges overheard Nick calling Archie, and he's probably tattling to Grissom right now." Sara glanced around and seeing that Archie wasn't around she frowned. "Between Catherine and Grissom, Archie will crack."

"Oh, I don't know. Arch can keep a pretty good secret." Warrick smirked, exchanging a look with the other guys. "So, how did you know we were here?"

"I followed you here, years ago." Sara accepted the water from Nick and took a swig. "I knew you still came here ever so often, so I figured this was where you guys were holed up."

"You knew we were here, all along?" Greg gasped. "You didn't tell Grissom?"

"I knew something had to be up for you guys to be in hiding. That you had to have a good reason. You do, don't you?" Sara looked from one man to the next, reading nothing but guilt on their faces. "Come on, throw me a bone, why don't you?"

"The man that attacked Nick," Warrick finally admitted. "He's after all three of us. We've only just discovered who he is, so now we can counter-attack. No more hiding." Warrick announced, looking at the others as if daring them to contradict him. "I'm going out hunting for him tonight."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I know, I know! A day late and a dollar short, story of my life. sigh Good news is that I'm now doped up on allergy medication. lol**

**Disclaimer: Yes, I own them all! If you believe that, I've got some oceanfront property in Arizona to sell ya!**

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For a moment, Catherine didn't know what to do or say. She couldn't believe her eyes. She had spent the last few shifts looking for this child. Finally, she had decided that she needed a break from it all and had headed home. Now it looked as if the job had beat her home.

All she could do was stare. The boy was standing there, on her lawn, with a bloody knife griped loosely in his hand. At first glance, it looked as if his clothes were caked with mud, but she realized that the mud was actually dried blood encrusted on his clothing. Her heart went out to the child, imagining what he had gone through, seeing his mother and brother murdered before him.

He stood there gazing back at her as if she were the shocking one. Suddenly he moved forward, approaching her with a strange little smile on his face. "Are you the cop lady?" He asked, looking to the gun and identification badge she wore on her hip.

"Yes. My name is Catherine. What's your name?" Catherine knelt down to be at the boy's level. He was just a little thing. He looked to be about six or seven, about the same age as the missing Lamarax boy. She felt a rush of joy stream through her at the thought. She had just about given up hope on finding him alive. She had spent the last few hours imagining horrible ways they were going to find his little body. Now, he was standing only a few feet before her, alive and well.

"Parker La……Morgan." His smile faltered a moment as he stumbled over the name. He frowned at her, and took a step back away from Catherine as if suspicious of her motives.

"Hi Parker. We've been looking for you. I'm very glad to see that you are okay. We were worried about you." Catherine smiled back at the boy, slowly easing her hand to the pocket that contained her cell phone. She glanced around nervously. It made her nervous to find the missing boy on her front lawn. When things started happening that easily, it usually meant that something terrible was about to happen.

Even though this was going through her mind, she was not prepared. She did not react quickly enough when the shadow crossed over her. Her gun remained fastened to her belt.

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Archie looked up to find Gil Grissom standing above him like a vulture about to swoop down on his prey. The man looked angry, and it took a lot to make the stolid man angry. Jim Brass came in quietly, looking just as angry. This wasn't a shock, for Brass was one who wore his emotions on display and was often irate. Brass shut the door behind him, coming to a stop a few feet behind Grissom, his hands resting on his hips.

Normally, either man glaring at him in such a way would make Archie nervous. He knew what they were after. Hodges had gone running to Grissom and they were here to play good cop/bad cop with Archie. The Asian had seen enough B-movies to know that he did not like the rules to this game. His eyes slanted towards the door, escape was impossible nor were there any witnesses nearby.

"Something I can do for you?" He questioned, aiming to sound as guiltless as possible. Neither man looked as if he were inclined to believe it.

"You know exactly why we're here, Archie." Grissom answered tranquilly, which sent a shiver down the video tech's spine. "Let's skip all the parts where you tell me a bunch of lies and get right to the part where you admit to knowing where my guys are."

"Okay…..skipping all the dishonesty, I can't tell you where they are, simply because I don't know where they are." Archie told him candidly.

"Are you telling us that you haven't been in contact with Nick, Greg or Warrick?" Brass demanded, the veins on his forehead starting to bulge, a sure sign that he was incensed.

"No, I'm not telling you that. That wasn't the question. The question…….no, the demand, was that I tell you where they were. As for being in contact….obviously you gentlemen suspect that, or you wouldn't be interrogating me." Archie acknowledged unenthusiastically. He didn't have a death wish, nor did he care to lose his job. He did not want to cause either man to grow too wound up. "I have been in contact. Or, they've been in contact with me. Nick called me yesterday."

"And you chose not to tell me?" Grissom demanded frigidly.

"I didn't feel that it was my place." Archie shrugged, trying not to show his nervousness. By the looks on their faces, he hadn't taken enough lessons from Warrick on the art of a poker face. "Had they wanted to contact you, they would have."

"I'm sure you know that I've misplaced three of my CSI's?" Grissom rumbled. "That they haven't been showing up for their shifts? That they are not answering their calls, nor are they at their homes?"

"Actually, only two. Nick is on Medical Leave." Archie corrected, immediately wishing he had not as Grissom sent daggers down at him through his cold blue eyes. Brass, temple pulsating in tune with his anger, stepped forward menacingly.

"Where are my guys?" Grissom demanded, his voice sounding as cold as ice itself. When Grissom's voice was like that, it was time to run for cover. Archie was a smart man; he knew when to give up.

"I don't know. Nick called me, said they needed my laptop. He had me meet a friend of his at a coffee shop. The friend took the computer. That's it. I never saw Nick nor the others. I do not know where they are! I swear!"

"Do you have a way of getting a hold of them?"

"Uh…." Archie didn't have a ready answer for that one. He could get in touch with them, and he knew these two men could easily get that answer out of him.

"Archie, It's important. I need Warrick to come back in. I need the guys." Grissom's voice lost the hard edge, it turned pleading.

"I have a number." Archie nodded, reaching for his phone.

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Joe hung up the phone and limped over to stand next to Greg. Everyone was watching as Warrick and Duncan sparred. The two Immortals had been battling for twenty minutes and there still wasn't a definite winner yet. They were equally skilled, it seemed. Duncan had the muscles to his favor, but Warrick made up for it in agility.

They had both drawn blood, but neither had managed to get the best of the other. Joe had watched Duncan in action enough to know that he wasn't going easy. He was giving it all he had; Warrick was just a vicious fighter. Joe was relieved that this was not a real battle.

"Adam? Can you get them to stop? We need to discuss something." Joe requested of the oldest Immortal. Joe knew better then to interrupt a swordfight. He liked what limbs he had, exactly where they were too much to do something as foolish as that. He didn't have any more limbs to spare as it was.

Without a word or even acknowledging that he had heard, Adam stepped forward, raising his sword to come between the two as they charged one another. Finding the third sword in the middle of their match caused the immediate cease to their battle. Finely toned chests heaving from the exertion, Warrick and Duncan focused their attention on the interloper. Neither of them looked to pleased with him.

"Seems that your battle is over. Call it a Draw?" Adam chirped with a grin. "We've got business at hand to discuss."

"What?" Warrick barked as he tried to catch his breath.

"I just got a call from Archie." Joe called their attention to himself. "He says your boss needs you. It's an emergency."

"Emergency?" Nick called out from the bed, where he had been resting. He pushed himself to a sitting position, only wincing slightly as his injury pulled.

"Your two women are missing. I explained that we have one of them, so only one of your women is missing." Joe announced bluntly.

"Catherine's missing?" Nick forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly.

"I just saw her a few hours ago." Sara frowned, reaching out to steady Nick, making it look as if she were seeking comfort from him.

"What happened to Cath?" Warrick shushed the others with a quick look in their direction. "When and where?"

"Her vehicle was found sitting in front of her house, but she never made it inside." Joe explained. "She was taken from her own house."

"It's him. I cannot wait anymore. I'm going after him!" Warrick roared. He turned towards the elevator, as if too charge out of the place.

"Warrick, calm down." Duncan stepped forward, taking a strong grip on the other man's shoulder. "That's what he wants. He wants you to go charging out after him, so he can sneak up on you. Look at all he's done…attacking Nick…..he obviously doesn't play by the rules. He's using your friend as bait. He's got a trap set for you. Take it slow; think this out before you go after him."

"And if he kills Cath while he's waiting?" Warrick snarled. "What do I tell her little daughter? Do I tell her 'sorry kid, I had to save my own bacon first?"

"We'll find where he's at." Adam cut in. "Get the woman out of there before he has a chance to use her against you."

"And what about Grissom? How do I explain to him why I have brought friends to a crime scene?" Warrick demanded feeling frustrated and angry. "I'm not ready to leave this place. I don't want to pick up and start over yet."

"We'll figure something out." Duncan promised with a shrug. "We'll get your boss out of the picture or we just relocate you for a few years. How does visiting me in Paris for a century or two sound?"

"Do I look amused, Mac?" Warrick sent a glare his way. "Because……I'm not!"

"What do you mean? I don't understand any of this?" Greg questioned. What do you mean a century in Paris?"

"If we are in a compromising position, we have to disappear. We have to vacate the area until the people that could recognize us are no longer around." Richie explained. "I died in Paris, a very public death, so I can't show my face there for a while."

"Well, I am not going to be exiled out of Vegas!" Warrick snarled, ending the conversation between the two men. "I'm not ready to end my life as Warrick Brown; CSI."

"We'll do what we can to prevent that." Adam promised.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Sorry Elena, I'm late again getting this posted. sigh Allergies kicked up again and allergy meds put me to sleep. I slept until time for CSI last night. **

**We're on chapter 21 out of 29 unless I decide to write that 30th chapter I've been told I should...we'll see.**

**Disclaimer: U know what's what.**

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Grissom looked up from the patch of lawn he was examining as the vehicle approached. He recognized the driver and occupants immediately. He let his cool gaze smooth over the four younger CSI's who climbed out. His gaze hardened as it landed rested on the tallest of his wayward team. "Nice of you to honor us with your presence." He quipped, but his tone was anything but amused.

"We're here to help." Warrick snapped back, ignoring the churlish tone his boss carried. He avoided looking at the unwelcoming look on Grissom's face too. "What do we know? Let's find Cath before we deal with this."

"Something attracted her attention away from the door when she pulled up." Grissom told him, acknowledging that their argument could wait until later. He studied Warrick's face while he took in the scene. "What is it, Warrick? Something you see? Something you know?"

"I don't see anything you don't, Boss." Warrick sighed. He was quietly mourning the life he had here. He knew that if he survived this challenge, his life as a CSI would be over. Gil would have too many questions. He would never accept anything other then putting Coy Morgan in prison. That couldn't happen. There was no way that both could come out of the battle alive.

Warrick knew that he had to kill Morgan. It was kill or be killed. Although they didn't like the idea, he had to protect Nick and Greg. He had made Duncan promise to go after Morgan if he should fail but, right now it was up to him to get Morgan off of their trail.

Either way, Warrick Brown, the CSI would be gone. He couldn't leave a headless body behind for Grissom to dwell over.

"Warrick." Grissom cut into his mental anguish. "Is there something you're not telling me? Is this somehow about you? Is it your gambling again? Is it the Mob?"

"Grissom, I haven't been at the tables. As far as I know, this has nothing to do with the Mob. I've been clean, I don't gamble anymore." Warrick looked at Grissom, the pain of the accusations shining brightly in his eyes. "I'll get Cath back. I'll get her back, or die trying."

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"I cannot be the one this time." Richie argued. "I'll be a dead man here in the states! I'm already dead in Paris! Where the hell would I go then?"

"There are more places in the world than France and the United States." Adam answered dryly, his only answer was a go-to-hell look aimed at him from Richie.

"I won't do it." Richie shook his head stubbornly.

"You're not very good with the sneaking of bodies out of the morgue, so you have to be the dead one." Duncan shook his head. "You die; I sneak you out while Methos goes with Warrick to protect the mortals."

"Why don't you jump off the freaking building? Since I'm so inept, Adam can get your stinking body out of the morgue and I'll go with Warrick." Richie snarled.

"Richie, can't you for once, just go along with the plan?" Duncan questioned, frustrated. "When you were mortal, you never did as you were told. You were constantly putting yourself in danger. You haven't outgrown that, even after becoming immortal."

"Just because you have a few centuries on me, doesn't mean that you are automatically allowed to boss me around. I've done the jumping off the building crap. I don't like it. I'm not doing it!" Richie insisted.

Duncan sighed, looking over at Adam for help. "Methos, can you please talk some sense into him?"

"Truthfully, he's too young to be a viable serial killer. He's too green behind the ears to pull it off believably. You're right that he's not good at sneaking bodies out of the morgue. I'll be the killer, you rescue me and Rich can go with Warrick."

Duncan looked at his friend in shock. He hadn't been expecting him to side with the kid. "Fine, I'll be the killer." He muttered belligerently.

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Archie approached the break room nervously. Through the glass, he could see Greg was in there with Warrick. Perhaps this wasn't the time to attempt to come near Warrick, but Archie wanted it out in the open. He didn't want to live in fear of repercussions. He didn't want to jump at every little noise, thinking it was an irate Immortal set to beat the stuffing out of him. He liked all his stuffing exactly where it was.

Both men looked up from the file they were examining as he entered. Greg gave him an easygoing smile of welcoming which Archie didn't feel capable of returning. He was too nervous. He was too scared. He was scared at the black man who was glaring at him thunderously. Swallowing his fear, he stepped closer.

"Don't Archie." Warrick warned, a low growl in his voice. It was the type of growl that could send pure dread through the bravest of men. Archie Johnson was not the bravest of men. He froze, like a dear in the headlights.

"I think you need more coffee, my friend." Greg tried to draw Warrick's attention to himself as he rose. "I myself made this coffee, so we all know it's worth its weight in gold." Taking Warrick's cup, he made a big production of refilling the mug.

"I don't want coffee." Warrick roared, causing the video tech to retreat a few steps. "And I don't want YOU anywhere near me right now. I'm not in the mood for being stabbed in the back!"

"I never backstabbed you, Warrick." Archie was indignant. "I have never done or said anything that would cause you harm."

"What do you think spying on me is? Telling others private things about my life is not causing harm?" Warrick rumbled, rising out of the chair like a wraith looming out of a shadow. Archie had never seen Warrick in such a black rage, and he was truly frightened. His eyes, trained for details, looked Warrick over, no sign of a sword. Even without a weapon, the damage the man alone could cause was terrifying. "In my book that's called backstabbing! You might as well get the freakin knife and use it!"

"I-it's m-my job, Warrick!" Archie stuttered, retreating another step. If he were to take another step, he'd be back in the hall. He didn't want to have to flee, but he knew he would if Warrick made the move to attack. He didn't want that. He didn't want any of this. He didn't want to lose Warrick's friendship. It was too rare, too special.

"It's my job, Warrick!" Warrick mimicked snottily. With a snort, he added gruffly. "Yeah, it's your job to pretend to be my friend. It's your job to betray someone who considers you a friend. You were my friend, Archie. I would have laid down my life for you. Now…….I don't think I can handle looking at you."

Archie stood there in shock, as Warrick flew past him. He turned to watch the retreating CSI disappear down the corridor. Turning back, he met the sad eyes of Greg Sanders.

"Sorry, Arch." Was all Greg said.

"It wasn't all a lie. I am his friend too." Archie whispered, before turning around to slowly head back to his lab. He didn't want to dwell on this. He was crushed. He had, indeed, just lost one of the best friends he had ever had. Things were better in the lab. As Grissom said, evidence was just that, evidence. It was what it was. It didn't lie. It didn't hurt. From now on, Archie Johnson would stick to what he knew, computers. Friendship was too much work. It hurt too much when you lost it.

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Everything was in place. The trap was set. He had the bait. He had the perfect place. Over the years, he had found the old abandoned factories made the best fighting grounds. It had big open places and many things to use against his enemy.

He knew the place by heart. He had the home court advantage. Warrick Brown would be lost in here. He would be able to sneak up on the Immortal with no problem. He was ready. All he had to do was let Warrick know where to come. Coy looked over at the boy playing with the gun he had just gotten him. The boy was a shocking surprise. Parker was moldable. The boy was a quick learner and had a taste for killing. He had seemed to enjoy killing his own brother. Coy had never imagined that he would want to be a father, but this kid was a gem. He had a lot to teach him. It would be good to have a partner in his pursuits. Perhaps if he had had a partner when this quest began, it wouldn't have gotten so out of hand.

Coy shook himself, trying to rid himself of his self-loathing. What was done was done. No matter what, he had no way of changing the past. He could learn from it, so not to make the same mistake again. He nodded to himself. Yes, he would clear up this mistake and no one would be the wiser. Tonight, Warrick would come here to lose his head. Later, he would slowly pick off the others. Wait until they were least expecting it and then take their heads. Clean up done! No one would know how many mistakes he had made with this one. No one would know that he had lost his quarry more than once! No one would know anything!

Now, to make the call that would get Warrick here. The sooner he made the call, the sooner he could take Warrick's head. He could almost taste the blood. Nothing was a good as an Immortals blood, except perhaps, the blood of a pre-Immortal. Soon, he would have his fill of both!


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: This lack of reviews is really bumming me out, if it weren't for Elena, I'd quit posting this sucker. According to the stats, people are reading this... sigh**

**Perhaps this chapter might get a rise out of some of you. (yes Elena, it's a cliff-hanger. No Elena, I'm not trying to kill you...)**

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Gil sat quietly watching as Brass interrogated the suspect. He did not like this. An anonymous tip with no evidence was nothing to go on. Going to the address the tipster had given, they had found their suspect, sitting there as if waiting for them. He had not even put up a fight when they arrested him. Gil Grissom did not like this. Nothing in life was ever this easy.

The suspect had called his lawyer immediately. Gil did not like the lawyer, not that he ever liked lawyers. This particular lawyer was……smarmy. He was cool and smooth, much like most lawyers the CSI had dealt with, but this one had twinkle in his eye. It was as if he found all of this amusing. It was as if he were enjoying a challenging game.

From his experience, the lawyer seemed more like a serial killer than his client did. He fit the typical serial killer profile, not the suspect.

The big brute they had brought in for questioning did not look like any serial killer he had ever seen. He looked more like one that could beat a man to death in a fit of rage. He sat back, quiet and relaxed while his lawyer rattled on. The suspect had a look in his dark eyes that told Gil that he was hiding something, but in his gut, Grissom didn't think this was the man he was looking for. He was wasting his time here.

Glancing at his watch Grissom wondered where his team was. He doubted they were making any progress if they were actually doing what they were told. It was bad enough that Warrick had taken the guys but now Sara seemed to be in on the weird behavior.

It was terrible, but he didn't trust Warrick. In all the years he had known him, this was the first time that he had really doubted Warrick. He had gambled on Warrick's character time and time again over the years, but today he could not. Evidence, strange behavior and plan gut instinct told him that Warrick was somehow involved in this. A part of him would die inside if he had to lose the man he'd put all his hopes into.

If he was right and Warrick had somehow caused all of this, there would be no strings he could pull. He couldn't call in enough favors to get Warrick out of this one. Gil felt an uncontrollable vehemence at the thought. He had invested too much time and energy making sure that Warrick was the one, the one to take his place should he decide to leave CSI. He didn't have the time nor the heart to start over.

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"He's here. I want you to be careful." Warrick warned his fellow CSI's. "He's after me, but he'll do anything he can to hurt me. That means he will go after any of you that he can. Stay together." He gave a meaningful look at Nick who was looking annoyed at the warning.

"You know for sure, that he's here?" Greg questioned, looking around. To him, the place looked abandoned.

"Yeah, he's here." Warrick nodded, climbing out of the vehicle. He pulled his sword out, testing its weight with his hand. "Somewhere close. I can feel him. I'm going after him. You guys find Catherine and get the hell out of here."

"I know I'm not an official member of your little club, but can you tell me what's going on?" Sara cut in, eyeing the sword. "What's with the sword? Who is this guy and why are we hiding him from Grissom?"

Warrick grimaced, knowing he had to tell her something, and he had to make it believable. He opened his mouth to reply, but grew tense, spinning to look around frantically. He let out a pent up breath as he spotted the source of his discomfort. "Damn it, Richie! Why are you here?" He glared at the shorter Immortal as he approached.

"We cut cards; loser had to come and put up with your cranky ass." Richie quipped. "We thought you'd have your hands full with these three. I'm here strictly as protection for them." Richie assured him. "Call me the Nanny for Pre-"

"You'll stay with them?" Warrick questioned, cutting Richie off before he caused Sara to have more questions. He nodded, looking at his friends. He had faith in them protecting themselves against people, but he doubted that they could handle it if the person couldn't die and would just keep coming. "Good. Get Catherine and get them out of here."

"You're the boss." Richie agreed jovially, giving Warrick a sarcastic little salute. A moment later, the small group watched as Warrick disappeared into the shadows.

Nick stared nervously at the shadow he had seen his best friend melt into. "He's going to be okay, right?"

"He's got a job to do and he can't be worrying about you guys." Richie answered in a way that no one realized that it was not an answer at all.

"So? Where do we go?" Greg stepped forward.

"Warrick went that way, so we go this way." Sara pointed logically. Without waiting for the men to respond, she led the way. The three men surged forward to follow. Greg quickened his pace to catch up with Sara. Richie stayed back with Nick, who moved slowly. He was still injured, having no business being out in the field, but determined to keep up.

No one spoke as they moved forward. It was pitch dark and they didn't want to risk giving away their approach with the use of a flashlight. They had slowly picked their way forward for a few moments when everything happened at once.

No one could see anything.

Greg lunged forward, yelling "Sara!"

Sara cried out.

"Greg!" Nick called out.

"Get down!" Richie ordered

There was a quiet grunt, as someone's flesh was ripped open by the shotgun blast. The only sounds heard were that of bodies falling to the ground. Then, just as suddenly as it happened, it grew quiet. Everyone was silent and still.

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Archie got out of his car after the others disappeared into the cluster of buildings. He couldn't help but wonder for the thousandth time, what he was doing there. He was a Lab-rat for goodness sake! He had no business following the team into some unknown danger.

He was a Watcher and it was his job to watch, no matter what. Because the fighter in Warrick had lain dormant for so long, Archie had never had the chance to be in this situation. This was a completely new experience for the lab technician. He stayed back in the shadows while the group conversed and was joined by another. By the way Warrick reacted; Archie could tell that the newcomer was an Immortal and a friend. He had to be someone trustworthy, Archie decided, when Warrick left the group to go off on his own. The team spoke a moment longer before heading off in the opposite direction.

Archie was Warrick's watcher, so although they were all his friends, he did not stop to consider following the others. He hurried after Warrick. Warrick moved quickly and quietly so Archie had to be careful in following him. The Immortal CSI was already angry beyond imagination at Archie. Archie Johnson did not want to consider what would happen if Warrick caught him spying on him in the dark. Some things were better left undiscovered and this was definitely one of them.

They moved so quickly they had weaved far into the maze of equipment and machinery in a matter of minutes. Archie wondered if Warrick knew where they were going or if he was just searching at random. Either way, Archie was terrified. He wished lab rats were issued guns, he'd feel safer with a gun in his hand. Even if he couldn't kill an Immortal with a gun, it would buy him some time to escape.

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Warrick felt an excruciating pain hit his entire being all at once. He stumbled, falling to his knees with the intensity of his anguish. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong!

Something within the Immortal world had shifted. Something nearby. Someone nearby and close to him. He turned in the direction that he had come, wondering if Richie was watching over his friends. It didn't feel like a Quickening, so Richie was most likely okay. That meant that something was up with either Greg or Nick.

As much as Warrick wanted to, he knew he could not turn to make sure if his friends were okay. He had to find Coy Morgan. This had gone on long enough. This had to end. The sooner it ended, the better. He would have to trust that his friends could take care of themselves and each other. For once, he had to ignore the worry he felt for his friends.

Warrick rose to his feet, ignoring the strange vibration he felt running inside him. He couldn't let it distract him from his mission. He had to press on, no matter what he felt for his friends. This had to end now. This could not go on any longer. He had to shove all thoughts of his friends out of his mind until this deed was done. He had to think of the big picture. Ridding the Immortal world of Coy Morgan was much more important than protecting his friends. The absence of Morgan would, in fact, protect his friends more than he could do if he went back for them.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Okay, I whined a little last time about my lack of reviews ut obviously it worked, I got like three in the first day. Sry, I'll try to be happy with seeing the stats on the chapters. **

**I know, I'm not due for an update until tomorrow, but it's my birthday so as a gift to you, an early update. Doesn't make sense? Well, that's just the way I work. LMAO! **

**Everyone seems to want me to do some serious damage to poor Nicky...we seem to have this sickness of wanting him hurt. He's already been injured once in this story! Isn't that enough? I know, he's up walking about already, even with the fresh wound, but I have a RN as a beta and she's informed me that it is possible, as long as he's careful...so...enough chitchat...I'm guessing you want to see who is or isn't injured, right? Shall I tell you this time? Or should I drag it out another chapter? I could do that, ya know? Okay, enough being goofy...**

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**Why aren't you reading yet?**

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The deafening silence was all Nick Stokes heard for several minutes. Something heavy was weighing him down, trapping him against the rough ground beneath him. His face was pressed against the dirty, rough surface of the floor. The darkness surrounding him was nearly suffocating as the weight pressing down on him. He held himself still as he tried to get his bearings. He hated darkness nearly as much as he hated being trapped. Here he was, in the dark and trapped. Memories of his entrapment in his own grave sent shivers through him. This overwhelming fear had lain dormant for so long, he had thought that he had beaten it.

He had no time for this irrational fear, and made himself rise above the quacking terror that threatened to prevail. Nick forced his mind to focus on what had happened. There had been a blast from a rifle! Had there been more than one? It all seemed like a blur in his muddled mind. He couldn't remember, but he thought there had been more than one shot.

Nick took stock of himself. Other than being pinned down, the only pain he really felt was from his knife wound. He took a deep breath of relief. He hadn't been hit. Frowning he nudged against whatever it was that had him restrained. It was……soft. It was a man. He elbowed the man sprawled over him. It was Richie. What was Richie doing atop him? Richie did not move. Pushing with all his strength, Nick rolled Richie off him roughly.

Richie did not as much as flinch. He tumbled off Nick, loosely. Nick pushed himself higher, reaching over to check his pulse. There was no pulse. A moment of fear ran through him, but Nick pushed it back. This was the decisive moment. Nick's belief in the reality of all this lay on Richie. Whether all this Immortal stuff was truth or fiction would be determined by Richie rising or remaining dead on the floor.

As much as he hated the whole idea of living forever, he hoped Richie wouldn't stay dead. Nick did not want this bit of guilt laid on him. He did not need it; he had enough crap to contend with. He remembered it clearly now. At the first sign of trouble, Richie had tackled Nick to the ground. The bullet that had taken Richie's life had been meant for him. Nick couldn't bear that thought.

"N-N-Nick?" Sara whimpered, sounding very unSara-like. She sounded emotional and pained.

"Sara?" Nick forced himself on his knees, ignoring the pain in his chest and stomach. He crawled towards where he had seen Sara last. "Sara? Are you alright?"

"Nick……it's Greg." Sara whimpered, her voice choked with the emotions she was fighting. Nick dug into his shirt pocket and pulled out his mag-light. The light flickered as if it would turn off but the light remained true. Nick squinted into the sudden brightness, suddenly aware of a nauseating slurping sound. Crawling forward, he reached out to touch his friend.

Greg was gasping and convulsing as his body fought the pain that he didn't seem aware of. Nick scrambled closer; he could see the blood pumping out of his friend. Crimson, sticky blood was draining out of a ragged hole in Greg's neck. Nick struggled to drag his top shirt off. Once he managed that, he used the cloth, pressing it to the wound as Greg made gagging sounds. Nick knew that this action was futile. There was no hope. Greg was drowning in his own blood.

Richie sat up, shaking his head as if to rattle his brains back into place. "What's going on?"

"Greg…." Sara sobbed, kneeling beside Greg. She bracketed his head between her hands. "Hold still Greg. Hold on! We'll get help!"

Richie hastened over. Taking a look at the fallen man, he shook his head. He'd seen this before. He knew that Greg was done for. He looked up to discover Nick's gaze on him through the darkness. He shook his head again. Nick sent daggers at him. "You're positive about this?" Nick murmured in a hushed tone, not wanting Sara to hear him. Even though she seemed engrossed in her mourning, she was still a CSI, she would be listening even if only subconsciously.

"Yes, you need to get her……away." Richie motioned to Sara. The woman in question was openly sobbing as she cradled Greg up against her.

"No! I'm not leaving Greg!" Sara hissed as Nick tried to dislodge her grip.

"Come on Sara, there's nothing we can do. We still have to find Catherine." Nick coaxed as he forcibly pulled her away from Greg's inert body. He could not help but look at his friends face. Sometime while Sara had been holding him, Greg had taken his last breath. His eyes stared sightlessly ahead. Unable to help himself, Nick reached over and closed Greg's eyes.

"Go." Richie pushed him. "Take Sara. Find your friend. Be careful, stay in the shadows."

"What about Greg!" Sara cried out, sounding on the verge of hysteria.

"I'll deal with this." Richie answered, staring meaningfully into Nick's eyes. Nick understood, even through the heavy grief that attempting to overwhelm him.

Nick got to his feet, slowly. Ignoring his own pain and heartache, he pulled Sara up alongside him. "We've got to find Catherine."

"But……what about Greg?" Sara tried to pull away.

"I know Sara." Nick sighed. "But, we can't do anything for him. Catherine might be alive. If she is, Greg would want us to save her. We can come back to him when this is all over."

"Nick." Richie held his sword out to the man. "Take this. You might need it."

Nick took the sword, looking at it as if it were a snake about to strike. "What about you?" The sword was heavier than Nick had expected. He wondered if it really was heavy, or was just simply weak. Nick shook those thoughts away; there was no time for that. He had to get Sara away from here and they had to find Catherine. His own lack of strength would have to wait until later.

"I can handle myself. You might need it more than I will." Richie assured him. The forever-young man wanted to say more, but with Sara there, he couldn't continue. "Don't worry about us-I mean, me."

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Archie watched as Warrick fell to his knees once again. Something was wrong! Was Warrick hurt? He hadn't seen anything hit Warrick or anything, but something had caused the Immortal to fall.

Warrick brought his hands up to cover his face for a moment. Taking a deep, soul-cleansing breath, he brought himself to his feet. Archie slid deeper into the shadows as Warrick turned towards the direction he had come. Even from the distance, Archie could see his green eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

Warrick was crying? What was going on? Evidently, he wasn't hurt, but upset? Archie was confused. Archie did not like to see his friend so pained. He had a strong desire to just run up to Warrick and ask him what was wrong. He wanted to ask him if he could do something to help.

Archie knew he could not do that. As a Watcher, he had no business approaching his Immortal. He had to just watch and take notes. In addition, Warrick was rather infuriated with him, so it was best to stay clear of him.

There was no time to think about it any longer, as Warrick pulled himself together and began to move again. Warrick was searching, Archie could tell. He was looking around corners and studying the shadows as if expecting someone to jump out of them. Archie grew nervous. What if someone did jump out of one of the shadows at him? He couldn't depend on Warrick to rescue him. Oh, where was that gun he had wished for?

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"Where are my CSI's!" Grissom demanded to the nearly empty lab. David Hodges stood at a counter in the back corner, diligently working on some trace evidence.

"They took off the minute you left." Hodges informed him silkily, without looking up from his project.

"Damn it!" Gil spat, spinning on his heel towards the Audio-Visual Lab.

"He's not in there." Hodges' nasally voice followed him out into the hall.

"What?" Gil turned back towards the loathsome Trace technician with great reluctance.

"Archie. He's not in there." Hodges smirked, at least, it looked like a smirk. Gil had trouble telling the difference between a Hodges smirk and a Hodges smile. They looked the same to Gil. He was never a people person, and Hodges type of people was the worst.

"He went with the team?" Gil wanted to know, he needed to know. He felt deceived. He felt let down and abandoned. Gil Grissom did not like that feeling.

"No. They left together. Archie followed a minute later." Hodges cocked an eyebrow up, as if sensing some of Grissom's irritation was not just irritation.

"He….followed them?" Gil was confused now. Nothing was right about anything lately. When this was over, he vowed to take a well-deserved vacation.

"Looked like he was." Hodges shrugged, nonchalant. "But then, I was actually in my lab. I was doing my job, like I'm supposed to."

"Yeah." Grissom waved a hand at him, dismissively. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the brown-noser. He was tired. He was frustrated. Most of all, he was worried about his team. Without another word to the snake-like lab rat, he turned and headed to his office. He needed to think.

This was the type of situation he needed Catherine the most. She was the people person. She had the insight that he lacked. If she were here, she would be the perfect sounding board. He would lay it all out on her capable shoulders and then wait for her reasonable or not so reasonable solution. That was why the two of them worked so well together. He had the logical answers while she had the ability to understand the illogical.

He needed Catherine here. He needed his team. Where were they and why had they all abandoned him? What was it about this week that had sent everything so haywire? Last week, he had had his complete team, working together and getting the cases solved. Now he had unsolved cases and everyone on his team was missing. Perhaps they weren't missing, but he was? He was missing something. Some clue or evidence had escaped him.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I even got one pm'd to me in my Talkcsi account. Means a lot to me gang, it really does. Especially as we are nearing the end. I'm getting nervous about whether or not I can do this right. I have it written out, but keep going back to add this or change that...still debating with my betas over whether I need to add an epilogue. I'll give it some thought...**

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The two men looked utterly shocked as they walked across the parking lot to their car. "So…..what just happened in there?" Duncan frowned as he and Methos climbed into his Thunderbird. "What happened to my 'great escape? I was supposed to jump off the roof for my theatrical death!"

"They didn't buy you as the killer. That nerdy looking guy that just sat there didn't believe you. I saw how he was watching you. He wasn't buying it for a minute."

"Nerdy looking guy?" Duncan roared with laughter. "You, Pot……Him, Kettle…….Both, Black!"

Methos sent him an annoyed glare and rolled his eyes. "Just drive the damn car, Highlander!"

"Have you looked in the mirror lately? You look as nerdy as that guy did!" Duncan couldn't stop laughing. "The Immortal bookworm had the nerve to call someone else a nerd."

"I'm just saying, you weren't believable as a serial killer." Methos huffed sounding exasperated.

"And? You would have been?" Duncan scoffed.

"MacLeod." Methos suddenly sounded like an irritable parent who had run fresh out of patience. "I've lived for over five thousand years. I've bloody well been one of the Four Horsemen. I am a killer."

"You were." Duncan corrected succulently, growing sober quickly. "In another life you did all that. You are Adam now."

"Methos is a part of me. I was a cold-blooded murderer. It will always be a part of me." Methos argued, shaking his head in disagreement.

"This is ridiculous!" Duncan shook his head, looking back at the building they'd just exited. "I've killed hundreds of men! Why can't I get arrested?"

"Warrick said his boss wasn't easily fooled. I'm guessing that nerdy guy was the brilliant boss. The way he just got up and left the room in the middle of the interview……he just didn't believe it."

"Yeah, the OTHER nerdy guy was the reason they didn't take the bait. The cop liked me for it."

"Next time, you be the lawyer and I'll be the bad guy." Methos declared peevishly.

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Richie squatted beside Greg's body and waited. He was glad Greg already knew what was going on. He didn't like the idea of having to explain all this to a frightened man. Greg had one up on him; he'd been told that he would be an Immortal. Duncan hadn't given him that imperative information until Richie had actually died.

Greg's entire body jerked as if he were a marionette whose strings had all been pulled. Richie moved forward to kneel on his knees, placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. "Easy Greg. Don't fight it." He murmured as Greg let out an animal-like sound of pain. Richie knew the intense pain and fear that went through you as your body healed itself and came back to life. The first time was the most severe and painful one.

Brown eyes opened to look into Richie's blue ones. The confusion and pain was so extreme, Richie could almost feel it.

"What happened?" Greg grimaced as he tried to sit up. His voice was raspy and hoarse.

"Hang on. Just lay still Greg. You've just received your first Quickening. It leaves you weak and vulnerable." Richie coached.

Greg lay back down as a wave of nausea overcame him. He looked up at his new friend with concern and bewilderment. "What? What happened?"

"You and I were shot. It was fatal for both of us." Richie grinned at the ability to say something like that.

"Fatal?" Greg repeated softly. Whether it was due to his confusion or that his throat hurt, Richie didn't know.

"Yes. Welcome to the world of Immortality." Using Nick's discarded shirt, Richie wiped at the blood covering Greg's neck. "You are officially dead."

"Nick? Sara?" Greg fought to sit up, looking frantically around him.

"They're both fine. I had Nick get Sara away before you rose from the dead." Richie moved back wiping the blood that had gotten on his hands, onto his jeans. Yet another reason black was a great color.

"Sara……saw me dead?" Greg whimpered, knowing that if Sara had witnessed his death, then there would be no getting around it. He was really and truly dead.

"Yeah, she held you in her arms as you choked to death on your own blood. You are dead. You have to disappear now." Richie explained to him gently. He knew what it was like to leave your life behind. Friends and loved ones would continue on, living life while believing you were dead.

"Sara held me in her arms?" Greg gave a shy smile.

"Yeah, she cried for you too." Richie added, giving the guy a little punch in the arm. "She was real upset."

"Wouldn't you know it." Greg sighed. "I've been chasing her for years and the only time I get any play from her, I'm dead!"

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Nick held onto Sara tightly as he prodded her forward. She kept wanting to go back to where they had left Greg and Richie. He kept hold of her, knowing that they couldn't go back.

Part of him wanted to go back too. His head was spinning from the confliction he felt. He wanted to go back and mourn his friend. He wanted to go back and see if he really was Immortal. Part of him wanted to believe that Greg would be just fine when he saw him next. Who wanted to see his friend die a terrible, senseless death like that?

However, another part, the realistic part, knew that he had felt Richie's pulse. Richie had been dead. Then moments later, Richie was beside him, talking to him. Richie had been dead, just like Warrick had when Duncan had slammed that knife into his chest. They had both been dead and had gotten back up. They were Immortal. Logic told him that what they said was true.

If what they said was, in deed, fact then Greg was not dead. He was most likely sitting up and talking to Richie right now. Nick felt better about that. He was glad the kid wasn't dead.

What he didn't like was the fact that this meant what they said about him was true. He was destined to be immortal too. He didn't want to be an Immortal. To spend the rest of his life struggling to stay alive in a world that was out to get him was not what he wanted to look forward to. To never grow old. To never have children and grandchildren.

No sir, this was not what he wanted in life. He wanted to find a special woman, get married and raise a passel of little Stokes'. He didn't want any more drama in his life than that.

_'Just my luck.' _Nick thought to himself. _'What else could happen to me? I've had just about everything imaginable happen to me and now the unimaginable was happening to me.'_

"I don't understand any of this." Sara whispered in his ear, still sounding like she was crying. Nick had left the flashlight back with Richie and Greg, so he couldn't see her. It was better that way. He didn't think he could handle seeing the sorrow on her face. If Greg was alive, how would he go on, allowing Sara to think otherwise?

"I know what's going on, mostly." Nick replied quietly. "And I don't understand it either."

"This is all so senseless." Sara murmured as they felt their way around a corner.

Suddenly, as if a dark shroud was lifted, the corridor they were in suddenly became light. The brightness of the light was so blinding, Nick raised an arm to shield his sensitive eyes from it. Sara grunted, narrowly avoiding his fast moving elbow as he shoved her back around the corner, following her. "What is it?"

Nick squatted low to the ground, squinting into the painful light as he peered around the corner. "Floodlights."

"Floodlights? Why?"

"So that we can see the bait and walk into the trap." was Nick's heatedly growled reply.

"Bait? Trap?" Sara leaned forward, trying to see what Nick was seeing.

"Catherine is the bait." Nick explained, pointed out the small form in the middle of the spotlight. Catherine lay in a heap on the debris-strewn floor. She was too far away for them to see if she was alive or not, but that didn't matter. They were here for her, and they were going to get her back. "I'm not sure what the trap is, but we need to find out before whoever it is, knows we are here."

"So? What's the plan?" Sara asked. Nick looked at her in surprise. He had no idea what their plan should be. It normally wasn't up to him to come up with the plan. For the most part, he was the follower. Perhaps that was why he was always getting in the tight spots. He followed others into the mess and it all came tumbling down onto him. No, he didn't have a plan. All he knew, was that he had to be the one to take all the risks. He had to do it so Sara could remain safe. Suddenly, the possibility of Immortality didn't seem too bad at the moment.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Thank you once again for the review, Elena! During all the time writing this, the battle is what I dreaded writing. I can't put it off any longer, so hopefully I can do it justice. Today's my last day of work. (Did I tell you how much I love working at a school? Summer Vacation!) Now I can focus more time on my CSI addiction. I've got a couple more stories bouncing around in this empty head of mine and a couple of videos I need to work on. **

**Well, I'm off, so here's chapter 25!**

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Warrick knew Morgan was somewhere close. He could feel the familiar buzz of another Immortal. He just needed to see him before the man attacked. "Hello, Brown!" An eerie voice called out, echoing through the darkness so there was no way of pinpointing its origin. "I'm so glad you accepted my invitation!"

Warrick scanned the surrounding area, unable to find the source of the voice. "You call that an invitation? I call this the work of a coward!" He scoffed angrily. "Sneaking around in the shadows, attacking innocent bystanders; that's all the work of a COWARD!"

"Trying to provoke me, Brown?" The voice mocked him from wherever it originated from. "It won't work! I know your game. You dare to call me a coward? That's a laugh! When was the last head you took? You are pathetic! You're hiding from the Game! Pretending we don't exist just proves that you are weak and scared! You deserve to die!"

"Then, come out and fight me! I am ready! Let's see how weak I am! Let's see who loses his head!" Warrick screamed his challenge.

"You think you're brave? You think bringing all your friends will help you?" The taunting voice continued to echo through the cavernous room. Warrick scanned the darkness, but could see nothing. His night vision was excellent, but this was bordering on ridiculous.

"I don't need any help in killing you. But, since you've abducted an innocent woman, my friends are here to get her out of here. This sword is all I need to defeat you!"

"She is not innocent! She interrupted my work! Your weak friend was supposed to die but she disturbed my work!" Suddenly the room was lit up like the Fourth of July. Warrick flinched at the unexpected brightness stung his eyes.

Warrick spun, raising his sword just in time to ward off the attack from behind. The strength of the attack jarred his arms, but he held tight, effectively stopping the oncoming sword. The resounding clang of the swords crashing together echoed through the near-empty warehouse.

As his eyes adjusted to the new light, Warrick found himself face to face with his enemy. Coy Morgan was not what he had expected. The man was nearly as tall as he was, and Warrick had pictured him as a small and scrawny man. He was thin and wiry, but he was strong.

It was his eyes that surprised Warrick the most. The blue orbs were cold, as if made of pure evil. They stared at Warrick with pure hatred.

"Time to die, Brown." The freak hissed while grinning at Warrick.

"Okay. Stretch out your neck and I'll accommodate you." Warrick offered as he circled around the man, sword raised and ready.

"No, it'll be you that loses your head. It's time! It should have happened long ago."

"Why?" Warrick swung his sword forward, pushing the other man back with very little effort. "You come after me for what reason?"

"Because you don't honor the Game!" Morgan growled as lunged forward. Warrick easily deflected the attack with a lithe movement to the left. He wasn't ready to actually fight, he wanted answers. The CSI in him wanted answers. He mentally cursed Gil Grissom for installing that desire in him. He couldn't just attack and kill this monster, he wanted to know why.

"I don't honor the Game? What the hell does that mean?" Warrick questioned as he spun away from the next lunge.

"You're a coward! You hide from the Game! Our job is to kill other Immortals until there are no others! Scum like you……training the weaklings, befriending instead of destroying!"

"So you want to kill me because I play the Game differently?" Warrick grunted as he blocked another attack. It wasn't much of a reason, but how much could you ask of a psychopath? Warrick was willing to accept that as his reasoning. Now that he had the answer, the battle could begin in earnest. He wouldn't just be blocking, he was about to start fighting for real.

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Nick scanned the area surrounding Catherine. He knew that something was up. Someone was there in the shadows, waiting for him to step out into the open. There was a darkened area to the left of Catherine's motionless form. Nick guessed that was where his assailant was hiding in wait. He nudged Sara and pointed out the area.

"You stay here. I'm going to try to circle around to that dark spot along the wall. If I'm not back in ten minutes or if you hear or see anything weird, empty your gun into that darkened area. Once your gun is empty, go back to Richie."

"Nick, I'd rather go with you." Sara argued in a hushed tone. "I have to agree with what Warrick said, for us to stay together."

"It will be easier for just me to sneak around. I need you to cover me." Nick explained the best way he could. He turned on the whine in his voice, pleading with her in a tone he knew she couldn't refuse. "Please. Watch my back, Sara."

"Just so you know, I'm not going to go running back to that guy." Sara motioned in the direction they had come from. "I'll watch your back but I'll also come running if there's any trouble. I won't go running away, Nick, we're a team."

Nick studied his fellow CSI. He knew better than to argue with her. She was too stubborn to listen to him. He thought about it from her point of view. Had their places been reversed, he wouldn't run for high ground. He would be in the thick of it all, no matter what others told him to do. No, he could expect nothing less than that from Sara. He suddenly understood Warrick a little better. The desire to protect others had doubled now that he accepted that he was not at risk.

When this was over and done with, he would apologize to Warrick for all the grief he had given him over the years. Heck, he owed the man a beer. This Immortality thing brought out the protectiveness in a person. Now that he understood it, he felt guilty for all the times Warrick had wanted to protect him and he'd caused a fight. Perhaps he owed Warrick more than just one beer.

"Okay. Just stay here." Nick agreed before he slid into the shadows to make his way around the trap. Soon he could no longer see Sara when he looked back. Good, if he couldn't see her, when he knew where she was, then she would be safe from whoever was after them.

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"No! I'm not leaving!" Greg growled. "My friends are still in there. I'm not leaving until they are safe!"

"Greg, your friend Sara just saw you die. You are now dead. You cannot be seen by anyone you know now!" Richie insisted.

"We'll just have to make sure that no one sees me. I cannot leave them all here. I can help." Greg pushed past Richie, heading in the direction Nick had gone. "I'm not disappearing until after everyone is safe."

"Alright, we'll do it your way. We'll simply shadow your friends, make sure they stay safe." Richie relented, knowing how it was to be worried about mortal friends.

"So? What happens to me now?" Greg whispered as they trailed after the CSI's

"Well, Warrick will train you or send you to someone to be trained. You'll be assigned your own personal Watcher. You'll train and you'll start a new life somewhere where your old friends cant' run into you." Richie explained carefully as they got closer to the others.

"And I'll get a sword? Where? How?"

"Warrick will get you one. He'll teach you how to make it a part of yourself. How to survive, how to go from one life to the next. That type of stuff." Richie whispered. They both came to a stop as they spotted Nick and Sara huddled together a few yards ahead of them. They couldn't see what the CSI's were looking at. Nor could they hear what was being discussed, but Nick was pointing to some far off spot and Sara was getting angry about it.

"Did Duncan teach you or did he have someone else do it?" Greg hunkered down low, so not to draw attention to himself.

"Mac trained me, but no one had seen my death." Richie pushed the memory of his death out of his head. It was too painful to dwell on right now. "I didn't have to leave town. I didn't have to hide."

"So, if Sara hadn't have seen me die, I could stay here?" Greg sighed quietly, once again saddened by the thought of leaving his friends and life here in Las Vegas. For the first time in his life, he had seemed to be getting somewhere. Now he had to leave it all and start over. It did not seem fair.

"Looks like they're up to something." Richie drew his attention back to his friends. Nick was leaving Sara, slipping into the shadows, intent on something up ahead. Greg felt frustrated that he couldn't help. He didn't want to stand back and be a bystander. Catherine was his friend too, he wanted to help.

Richie must have seen what he was thinking in his face for he reached over and thumped him. "If you can stay in the shadows, circle around to the right; see if you can see what Nick is after. Just make sure to stay out of sight. I don't think your friend will believe that she saw a ghost."

Eager to be doing something, Greg scrambled to do as he was told. The way around the room to the right was harder to travel, but at least he was doing something.

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Nick blinked. Nick squinted. No matter what he did, he still could not believe his eyes. No matter how he looked at it, he still saw a kid holding a rifle. This couldn't be right. There could not be a little kid sitting there, waiting to blow a hole in one of his friends. This kid, perched in the darkness, looked to be no older than seven. He had to be hallucinating! There was no way this kid was the one lying in wait for them.

Nick stood there, having this internal argument with himself while the kid peered into the darkness, looking for someone to stick his head out. Sara must have moved, because the kid suddenly tensed. Raising his gun, the kid took aim at something. Nick had no more time to convince himself if the kid was real or not, he had to move. He hurtled forward, reaching over the kids head; he yanked the rifle out of his grasp.

The kid let out an outraged squeal and jumped to his feet. "Give me that back! You Asshole!" He demanded as he charged Nick. Although he was small, the kid was strong. Nick found himself struggling to hold onto the rifle. Suddenly, without any warning, the kid rammed his head into Nick's ribcage.

Nick cried out in pain as his stitches tore. His vision went black from the intensity of the pain. His grip on the rifle went lax and the kid won the battle over the gun. Nick moaned, falling to his knees. A first grader was taking him down? Could he be anymore pathetic? The kid ripped the gun out of his hands and turned the barrel towards Nick.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Ah Elena, I'm not trying to kill you and I don't hate you...your reviews are always so sweet! LMAO**

**Sorry for the late entry, haven't been on the computer today.**

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Nick shut his eyes. He was in too much pain to fight. He didn't want to see the bullet exploding out of the gun barrel and come flying at him. He didn't want to see his death. It didn't matter if he was immortal or not, he was not ready to face his death. Especially when he was about to die at the hands of kid. Of all the screw ups he'd accomplished, this was definitely the one that would follow him throughout the centuries. Death by preschooler!

Suddenly the kid cried out in pain. Nick opened his eyes to see what had happened. Someone was there! He couldn't see through the pain-filled haze in his eyes, but someone was there. Someone had stopped the kid from blowing his head off. The kid made a whimpering sound and grew quiet. Whoever his savior was, was now kneeling beside Nick. Nick could feel the presence, but the pain was blocking his vision.

"Nick? You okay, Buddy?" Greg's soft voice was the best thing Nick had ever heard. Since the guy was technically dead, Nick figured he could safely say that Greg's voice was angelic. His own freaking guardian angel. Who would have ever thought that of Greg Sanders?

Nick shook his head, trying to rid the fogginess. The pain was getting to him. He was embarrassingly wacky, even when it was in his own head.

"Nick?" Greg whispered, sounding worried and anxious. Suddenly Greg disappeared into the shadows. Nick reached out for him, wanting the comfort of his friend, as his eyesight remained muddled.

"Nick!" Sara was suddenly at his side. She was looking like she stepped out of an abstract painting, but it was Sara. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's a kid." Nick chuckled only to be rewarded with a sharp stabbing pain in his side. He grabbed at the injured area, feeling the warm dampness that told him that he was bleeding again.

"Kid?" Sara repeated, looking around to see that a kid was huddled in a ball a few feet away. "That's who was after us? That's who shot us?" Sara frowned unbelievingly. "You've got to be kidding. What happened Nick?"

Nick grimaced, trying to focus on Sara's face. Between the strange lighting and his own funky eyesight, Sara was blurry, at best. "He was about to shoot at you. At least, I think it was you he was going to shoot. I tried to take the gun from him, but the little bugger is meaner than a snake. He got me in the ribcage. I think he did some damage to my knife wound."

At that, Sara bent down and lifted his shirt. Sure enough, she could see the crimson stain spreading through the bandage. It was oozing out the edge of the tape and trickling down his stomach. "Look's like you pulled the stitches open."

"Little creep did it." Nick pushed her hands away and righted his shirt. "Weird, but it messed up my vision. I can't see too clearly." Nick shook his head again, trying to repair his vision. He was happy to see that it was a little better.

"What happened to the kid?"

"Don't know. After he rammed my gut, he got the gun from me. Evil little creep. He had the gun in my face. I was about to die, then Greg came out of the shadows and saved me." Nick confessed a moment before biting his tongue. That was a stupid thing to say! As far as Sara knew, Greg was dead.

"I think you must have hit your head, Stokes." Sara sighed sadly. Reaching over Nick; she took the rifle from where Greg had placed it. She gasped as she heard footsteps approaching. Aiming the gun into the darkness, she nearly fired at Richie as he dashed into the dimly lit area.

"Whoa!" He halted, hands up as if to ward off her attack.

"Nick's hurt." Sara frowned at the man.

"I'm okay." Nick tried to rise, relieved that his vision was returning to normal, Richie wasn't nearly as blurry as Sara had been. Richie looked him over and shrugged. There was nothing he could do for him. "This kid is what we've been hiding from."

"A kid with a high powered rifle." Richie corrected, looking over the gun as he took it out of Sara's hands. "He's subdued; let's see about your friend over there. I'll watch the kid, you go see about your friend. "

At the mention of Catherine, Sara and Nick hurried over to her while Richie kept an eye on the sniveling child. He waited for a report back, not wanting to take his eyes off the child. Who knew what other weapons the kid might have on hand? He didn't think he would ever live long enough to not be shocked at something like this. Life seemed to throw you curveballs every once in a while.

"She's alive." Nick informed him. "Doesn't look hurt but she's unconscious. Most likely, she was drugged to keep her quiet."

"Well, let's get her and the kid out of here." Richie nodded. "Get you both to a hospital."

A loud crash reverberated through the building followed by a cry of pain. "Warrick!" Sara jumped to her feet, charging in the direction that it seemed to be coming from.

"Sara!" Nick was up and on his feet, hurrying after her. He paused, torn between going after her and staying with Catherine.

"Go get her! I'll deal with these two." Richie barked. Nick nodded and took off after Sara.

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"So, this is who killed me?" Greg appeared next to Richie a moment after Sara was out of sight. He looked down at the weeping child looking distressed over the thought. "He killed me?"

"Killers can come in all shapes and sizes." Richie frowned before bending down to lift the child into his arms. "Let's get your friend out of here."

Greg went over and carefully lifted Catherine into his arms. He was surprised at how easily he could do it. Someone who seemed as tough as Catherine did seemed like they should weigh more. "Wonder what Grissom will think when he hears that this is the killer."

"I think he's as much of a victim as anyone here. Coy Morgan is behind this." Richie disagreed, cuddling the child to him. The child whimpered and snuggled against him as any frightened child would. "That monster has traumatized this kid."

"So what do you suggest we do with him?"

"We get him some help. Put him somewhere they'll understand what he's been through, that what he did was not his fault." Richie declared as he began to make his way through the rubble.

"What about Nick and Sara?" Greg hesitated, looking back the way he'd seen his friends go. He wanted, more than anything, to go after them. This was why he'd fought so hard to get out of the lab, he wanted to be involved with what the others were doing.

"Let's worry about these two." Richie ordered before reminding him. "You can't be seen by this one or the other woman. You are dead, Greg."

Greg didn't like the reminder. He looked down at the woman in his arms. What would it be like to never see her again. He still had a lot to learn and Catherine had a lot to teach. He would miss her. Resigning himself to the loss, he shifted her in his arms and began to follow Richie.

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"Sara! Stop!" Nick caught up with Sara, grabbing her arm to force her to stop.

"Warrick. We've got to get to Warrick! Catherine is safe! He doesn't need to confront this man! Let's just find him and get him out of here before someone else gets hurt!"

"Sara, he'll be fine. Let's just catch up with Richie and help get Catherine to the hospital." Nick held tight as she tried to squirm out of his grasp.

"No! Not until we get Warrick! We've already lost Greg! I can't bear to lose Warrick too!" The raw emotion in her voice gave Nick pause. He had seen Sara cry and he'd seen her upset, but he'd never seen her like this. She was…..near hysterical.

"Sara…."Nick began, but a strange noise pulled their attention in a different direction. Nick knew it was the now familiar sound of swords clashing together. "Warrick." He muttered, irresistibly drawn to the noise. He knew it was Warrick. His best friend was somewhere near, engaged in a life and death battle. Someone was intent on killing Warrick and there was nothing Nick could do. Without a word of argument, he followed Sara onto the metal catwalk that led to where Warrick was.

Now that he was this close, he had to be there. He had to see that Warrick was going to make it. He looked down and frowned as he dropped Richie's sword to the ground below. Sara glared at him with irritation but he simply shrugged. He hadn't even remembered picking it back up. It wasn't a big loss; he wouldn't know what to do with it anyway. He knew that if this guy beat Warrick, then he would be no match for the man.

From the catwalk that they stood on, they looked down on Warrick's battle with Coy Morgan. The room was insanely bright compared to the darkness of the places they'd been. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to this new shock of light.

Sara couldn't believe what she was seeing as her eyes adjusted to the light. Warrick was engaged in a sword fight with another man. A sword fight? Surely, her ill-treated eyes were deceiving her. It was the twenty-first century, people did not have swordfights! Suddenly the sights and sounds blended together and registered in her brain. This was, indeed, happening! She gasped as the sharp blade of his opponent slid into Warrick's side.

Warrick's white wife-beater quickly turned crimson on that side when the blade pulled free. He grunted but lunged forward for his own counterattack. His blade sliced across the other man's arm.

"Warrick!" Sara surged forward, pulling her gun out of the clip on her hip. She was determined to jump into the fray to help Warrick. Strong arms suddenly wrapped around her. She was pulled against a hard chest.

"No Sara. We can't interfere."

"But….it's Warrick. He's hurt." Sara whined, her eyes never leaving the fight below them.

"He knows what he's doing." Nick's lips were close to her ear as he held her still. "We can't interfere, it's against the rules. He's better off if we leave him alone. He can't be distracted by us."

"Rules? What rules? Rules to what?" Sara hissed angrily. She knew she could get free from Nick's restraining hold. All she would have to do was ram her left elbow backward. It would connect directly into his now reopened injury.

She wouldn't do that to Nick. She and Nick both knew that. She couldn't willingly cause him any pain. Therefore, because of that, she had to settle for just watching Warrick from where they stood.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Thanks to Elena and Duffshel for reviewing. After reading your stories, I'm honored to have you reading mine. **

Greg was only slightly shocked to find a car waiting outside for them. These guys seemed to work together in everything they did. They seemed so seasoned and professional about this all. It amazed Greg to think that between the Adam, Duncan and Joe, they had experienced just about everything life had to offer. He was glad he was alive to live another day. He wanted to pick their brains for stories of their life experiences. Now wasn't the time, but he would make sure to find the time, soon.

No, it definitely did not surprise him to find Joe Dawson standing by the idling car. Joe was holding the backdoor open so he could put Catherine inside. Greg placed her gently in the seat before turning to the other men.

"She needs to be taken to a hospital." Greg informed the older man. Joe nodded, giving him a slight frown. Greg stood back while Richie placed the kid in the front seat. While they watched Richie put the seatbelt on the kid, Greg felt the need to tell Joe, "That is one of our attackers."

"The kid?" Joe's gruff voice seemed to get higher in his surprise.

"He shot us." Richie turned to show the bullet hole in his jacket. "And I just bought this! I should know better than to buy something this expensive!"

"He shot you?" Joe ignored Richie's grumbling. Instead, he was looking closely on the blood that decorated the collar of Greg's shirt. It was evidence of a lot of blood.

"Yeah, I guess I died." Greg shrugged, feeling embarrassed.

"Look's like you need to find yourself a new recruit." Richie informed Joe. "He'll need a Watcher now. Unless, you get Warrick a new one and reassign that Archie-guy to Greg. I doubt he'd have a problem with knowing who his watcher is."

"I'll discuss it with Adam, see what he thinks. That can wait until later." Joe agreed dismissively. "Come on then, we better get her out of here. We can stash Greg at Warrick's place on our way to the hospital."

"I'm not going. Here, call this number, have Grissom meet you at the hospital. He can sit with her." Greg pulled out a notepad and scribbled the CSI number down.

"Greg." Richie warned. "You need to get out of sight. You're dead now, remember? Sara saw you die, she can't see you again."

"I told you, I won't let her see me. I have to stay here until it's over. I can't just leave while my friends are in danger." Greg insisted once again. The look he gave Richie told him that there was no use arguing, he wouldn't leave. Once again, Greg reminded Richie of the times he had been warned away but refused. When a man had friends, you didn't leave them behind, no matter what. With a resigned sigh, Richie agreed.

"Rich, just make sure he stays out of sight." Joe advised as he circled around to the driver's side. Richie nodded, turning to find that Greg was already returning to the building. He jogged after him, wondering if he had been this annoying to Mac when he had first become immortal. Remembering how grouchy Mac had been, Richie guessed he had been, most likely worse.

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From what Sara could see, Nick was right. Warrick did know what he was doing. He seemed just as skilled with the sword as the other man did. Warrick fought dirty, using more than just his sword as he tried to disarm the other man.

Sara had watched the movies, and this was nothing like the swordfights the movies had. It wasn't just Warrick that was fighting dirty. Both men punched and kicked at every opportunity. They blocked and attacked with no apparent rhythm but they both seemed to know the moves. No sooner had that thought crossed her mind, than Warrick caught a hard foot to his abdomen that should have done some major damage. Sara gasped as Warrick went down to his knees but relaxed as he rolled away to spring to his feet behind the man.

The swords would find purchase and blood would flow, but it never seemed to faze the men. They just kept going. Warrick's wife-beater was ripped to shreds and more red than white, but still they continued. Warrick treated the cuts as one would treat a mosquito bite. He never failed to move on.

Sara had always known that Warrick was a fighter, but what she was witnessing was beyond her scope of imagination. This was not just a conflict. This was war! This was a battle to the death, she could see it in the way they moved and struck one another. She felt a chill of apprehension run through her at the realization. If Nick had not kept such a firm grip on her, she would have attempted to get in the middle of it.

The assault made its way around the room, both men using whatever they could in an attempt to get an advantage. Warrick managed to disarm his opponent once, but a quick swing from an overhead catwalk got the man back to his weapon. Sara chewed her nail nervously as the battle moved from one end of the room to the next; the only sounds were the clashing of swords and an occasional grunt from one of the combatants.

Warrick lost his sword in a dirty blow of the man's fist. Sara nearly screamed but knew better than to do anything to distract Warrick. He grabbed up an iron pipe to use as protection from the other man until he could scramble back to his weapon. He thrust it forward, blocking the onslaught. The pipe broke into two, the top piece flying up and towards where the two CSI's stood and watched. Sara was dismayed at this proof of just how sharp that sword was and how deadly each blow was. Warrick did not seem too surprised. He slung the remaining piece of iron at the other man's face, using the momentary distraction as time to fetch his own finely honed blade. He somersaulted away from his opponent and retrieved his sword. He was well armed and ready when the man charged at him again.

The battle raged on. Suddenly Warrick seemed to be losing ground. He became the defender and his opponent the aggressor. The other man began to edge him backward and Warrick had no choice but to retreat as he blocked one attack after another. The other man seemed to be aiming him towards one particular spot. It was as if he knew something that they couldn't see.

Sara whimpered, trying to get out of Nick's grasp. Warrick was in trouble, she could see it. She could feel it down to the very marrow of her bones. There was danger. "Nick, let me go! Let me help him! He needs our help!"

"We can't Sara. We have to let him do this himself!" Nick hissed, the pain of what he was saying evident on his face. He wasn't liking this any more than she was, but something was keeping him from coming to Warrick's aid. There was something he was keeping from her. What could possible force Nick to put himself through so much torment? Sara didn't understand it and she didn't like any of this.

"He's your best friend! How can you just stand there and watch this? What kind of man are you?" She had never been so angry with Nick before. She had never been so disappointed in Nick before. This was not the Nick she knew and loved. This was not the behavior of anyone on the team. "Why aren't you trying to help him?"

"Sara." Nick sighed. "You don't understand. I cannot. I want, more than anything, to help him. He wouldn't want me to. It's against the rules. He told me that himself. It's his fight and I can't help him."

"What kind of sick thing is this?" Sara snarled at Nick as her eyes followed the slow progression of the battle across the room. The other man seemed intent on getting Warrick to the darkened area not too far from where Nick and Sara were. As much as Warrick tried, he seemed to have no choice but to back towards that unlit area.

Warrick blocked another attack, bracing himself against the attack, he held strong. While they were locked in position, he brought his gaze directly to where Nick and Sara were. He locked gazes with Nick, as if he knew exactly where the other man was the entire time. There was something in his eyes that scared Sara. It was a look of defeat. Warrick shook his head, seemingly trying to convey some sort of message to Nick. Nick let out a little mewling sound and nodded. Warrick brought his full attention back to the fight at hand. The visual conversation only last a split second but something had happened between the two.

"Come on. We have to leave." Nick's voice was broken, as if he were fighting back emotion. His face was pale and he looked as if he had suddenly aged. He turned away from Warrick, tugging at Sara's arm.

"No!" Sara balked, pulling away from Nick. "I will not go!" She turned back to watch Warrick. If she were prevented from coming to his aid, she would at least be there to witness what was happening. She would remain and should Warrick fall, she would be there to see the man responsible brought down. This fiend had already hurt Nick and Catherine. He was responsible for Greg's death. She would not stand idly by and let Warrick die at his hands.

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Warrick was nearly out of space. He had nowhere to go and Coy knew it. He was trapped. He leapt atop a metal crate, one last attempt to get out of his predicament. The crate wobbled precariously at his added weight. Warrick scanned the area. There was nowhere to go. Coy slashed at his legs, trying to knock him off balance. Warrick jumped to avoid the sharp slice.

As he came down the crate cracked, throwing him off balance. Warrick's only choice was to jump off of the box. He did a flip off of the box, landing on some loose gravel that caused him to skid. Coy took advantage of his imbalance and kicked him in the midsection.

Warrick fell, crashing spread-eagle onto the ground. His breath left him in a huge burst of air as the hard ground knocked him breathless. He lost his hold on his sword causing it to go clattering away. "No!" Warrick's mind screamed. The loss of a weapon was a death sentence. That was the first lesson an Immortal learned; to lose your weapon was to lose your head.

Coy was not about to give him the chance to recover. He leapt at Warrick, sword raised to strike the deathblow. Warrick knew he could not get to his sword in time. There was nothing to use as a weapon anywhere within reach.

As if from far away, he heard Sara cry out to him and it hurt his very soul. He had hoped that Nick would get her out of here. He didn't want her to see this. Warrick wanted to call out for them to run. Coy would not hesitate to kill them or anyone else he came across. He opened his mouth to do so, but he couldn't seem to make a sound.

Death was eminent. The Game was about to be over for Warrick Brown. He could only pray that his friends could get away in time.

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**I'm guessing that you don't like me much at this moment………..**

**Please tell me what you think of this chapter. I wasn't sure how to write a fight scene, so I cheated and wrote it through the eyes of someone who knows nothing about swordfights.**


	28. Chapter 28

**No forward today gang, let's just get right to the show...**

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Warrick closed his eyes, preparing for his death. Something cold and hard touched Warrick's left hand as Coy brought his sword down towards his neck. Reflexively, his hand closed around the metal. It was the hilt of a sword! A rush of hope filled Warrick as he grasped the hilt. He could tell by the feel that it wasn't his sword, but at this point, he didn't care. It was a sword and it was in his hand!

Coy was on top of him, his sword was mere inches from Warrick's neck when Warrick reached up with his right hand to stop the blade. The sharp edge sliced into his hand. Warrick could feel the bones and cartilage ripping apart, but he was determined to ward off the attack.

Without another thought about his mangled hand, Warrick swung his left hand up. The newfound sword found immediate purchase in the exposed neck of his enemy. Coy gave a momentary look of extreme shock on his face before his head left his body. The now headless body collapsed onto Warrick, a heavy, dead weight.

Warrick dropped both swords and used his left hand to push the corpse off him. He drew himself up to his knees, hugging the remains of his right hand up against himself.

"Warrick!" Sara screamed, breaking free of Nick. The two CSI's clambered down the catwalk stairs towards him.

"No!" Warrick bellowed. "Stay back!" The warning got out of his mouth just in time. A strange white-blue lightning bolt streaked out of Coy's body and hit Warrick with such velocity that it sent him sprawling backward. An eerie wind blew swirling around Warrick like a whirlwind. His body was contorting at a weird angle as bolt after bolt struck him. Warrick screamed in agony as he was twisted like a pretzel by the blue bolts.

"Warrick!" Sara cried out, attempting to get to him. Once again, Nick grabbed her, holding her back as she attempted to get closer to their friend. He didn't know what was happening, but he was afraid that Sara would get hurt by this strange storm that seemed to focus only on Warrick. His first thought was to go to his friend also, but he had a strange feeling there was nothing he could do to help him.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the storm dissipated. Warrick collapsed into a lifeless heap on the ground, exhausted and spent. Seeing that the danger had passed, Nick released his hold on Sara so they both could race to Warrick's side.

"Warrick? Bro?" Nick cooed, unsure of what he had just seen. He didn't know if his friend was alive, dead or a little of both. Warrick wasn't moving but he was breathing heavily, almost as if he were about to hyperventilate. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Was Warrick's grunt as he tried to sit up. He was so weak that he couldn't until Nick took his arm and helped him to rise.

"What the hell was that?" Nick had to ask.

"That…..my friend…"Warrick held up his right hand, relieved to see that it was back in one piece. "was the Quickening."

"Quickening?" Nick repeated in shock. That was not what he had imagined when it had been mentioned before. "It looked painful."

"Hurts like hell," Warrick snickered weakly. "And leaves you weak. It leaves you at your most vulnerable."

Sara picked up the bloody sword that Warrick had dropped. She was trembling as shock overtook her body. Her mind was a jumble of the visions she had just witnessed.

"Thanks for the sword." Warrick sighed, relaxing against Nick's support. "You certainly saved my butt….or my head."

"We didn't give it to you." Nick admitted. "I brought it, but I dropped it. We were up on the catwalk….we saw you fall. He was on you. He was going to kill you and then, all of a sudden, you came up with the sword….."

"Someone put the sword in my hand." Warrick sat up as he frowned into the shadows that had supplied the weapon. He squinted, realizing that someone was there. "OH." Warrick stated as the shock registered. "You."

Nick and Sara turned to look into the mysterious shadows. They were both curious to see who had just saved Warrick's life. Neither could see anyone there. Nick was beginning to think that Warrick was hallucinating

"Watchers are not supposed to interfere." Warrick continued to speak to the shadows. "I'm guessing that handing me a sword was interference."

"I wasn't your Watcher when I handed you the sword." Archie stepped forward into the light. "I was your friend when I did that. Watcher's watch, but friends give help."

Green eyes locked with brown ones as they studied one another. Silence surrounded them until Nick could stand it no longer. "This big oaf may be too chicken-shit to say it, but I'm not. Thank you, Archie."

Archie found himself blushing with embarrassment at the Texan's drawl. "Well…..let's just keep it between us." He nodded before blending back into the murkiness of light.

"Hey Archie!" Warrick called him back. He waited until the Asian stepped back into sight before continuing. "For future reference, I'm right-handed. Next time, put the sword in my right hand."

Archie gave a relieved smile and disappeared back into the darkness.

"Nick, can you help me up? I need to find my sword." Warrick grimaced as he moved. His attention suddenly jerked to the left, his entire being focused on a far off corner. "Ah, shit."

"What?" Nick looked, but he neither saw nor heard anything.

Without answering, Warrick forced himself to his feet. He grabbed the sword out of Sara's hands. Although he was obviously weak, he placed himself between his friends and whatever danger seemed to be approaching.

"Are you missing something Brown?" A mocking, British accented voice called out. "Is this the way MacLeod taught you to treat such a fine piece of steel?" Recognizing the voice, Warrick slumped in relief as Adam stepped forward into sight. Duncan followed a step behind him. Had Nick not been there to brace him, Warrick would have hit the floor as the tension left him. Adam was casually swinging Warrick's sword as they approached.

"Someone planning on telling me what the heck just happened?" Sara demanded, having come out of her shock-induced stupor. She was startled as all eyes landed on her. She aimed all her irritation on Adam, whom she still didn't like after the fright he had given her. The men exchanged looks. No one seemed to know what to tell her.

"Since she saw the Quickening, I suggest we tell her the truth." Richie suddenly called out from the catwalk above. "Believe me, I know this from experience. This whole immortality thing is a lot easier to believe if you've seen the whole beheading thing."

"Warrick?" Sara turned to her friend, hoping she could get a clear answer from him.

Warrick looked around at his fellow Immortals and shrugged before agreeing. "Knowing Sara, it would be easier to tell the truth then to try to come up with a lie."

"Besides, if she knows about this, then I don't have to be dead anymore." Greg called out, coming up behind Sara. Sara spun around, unable to believe her ears. Shocked, she reached out and touched Greg. His flesh was warm and solid. He felt real. Still, she doubted what she saw; she turned back to the other men who were watching her with interest.

The fact that no one else was surprised to see the apparition of Greg Sanders appear irritated Sara. Doubling her ire was the fact that they all seemed concerned about her reaction. "What? Stop staring at me! Do you honestly think I'm going to faint or something?"

"She'll be fine guys." Nick grinned. Being the kind of guy he was, Nick saw her anger for what it really was. Sara was using anger as a way of masking the hurt and confusion she felt. "She's good at keeping secrets."

Richie jumped down to the ground level with ease. Sara frowned; normally someone would break a leg jumping that far. Richie simply shook his left leg a little bit and gave her his most charming smile. Sara quirked her mouth, the closest she could get to a smile at the time being. She looked back to Warrick, hoping for some sort of explanation. He seemed to be the ringleader of this mess, so he should be the one to unravel the puzzle.

"Yeah, she kept the secret of my hideout for a long time. She can keep this one too." Warrick nodded before turning to Sara. "I promise, I'll explain it all to the best of my ability after a bit. Right now, we need to focus on a little clean up."

"Clean up?" Nick looked around. The place didn't look much different than it had when they came in. "Why?"

"You think Grissom will accept a headless body without question? We can't just leave it here if we all want to keep our jobs. Remember, it's our job to find out who did the crime."

"We can't hide it, too big a chance that it'll be found later on." Nick countered looking over at the body. Bodies never stayed hidden. They always seemed to turn up, no matter where they were.

"Besides, Grissom would never be happy with this case unsolved." Greg added, looking sick at the thought. "It's going to be rough enough getting him to forgive us for running out on him during all this."

"Explosions are always good." Adam suggested. "Burns the evidence. You guys all have the same story about what happened, they find ashes of the culprit and case is closed."

"And just how do we do that?" Warrick scoffed, but he looked intrigued by the idea. If they could at least burn the body and the fight area, it might slow Grissom down.

"There's bound to be something flammable around here. Factories are always good for explosive substances." Adam surmised, looking around. "Let's just find it and with a shot from the rifle, we make it go boom."

"Well, I guess we better get to finding something." Duncan agreed but paused. "This is your court Warrick. Do you have a better plan?"

"No, just so long as it satisfies Gil Grissom." Warrick explained with a shrug. He didn't have much hope for it working, but he was willing to try. "It's difficult to put one over on him."

"Yeah, we met him. We couldn't even get him to believe MacLeod had ever killed a man." Adam smirked as he received a deadly glare from Duncan.

"You'll have to share that story with the rest of the class later." Nick sniggered, enjoying the look on Duncan's face. He was looking forward to hearing that Grissom had proven Duncan was not so perfect after all. Although he had grown to trust the man, he had an odd tendency to dislike him. In any other person he would say the cause was jealousy, but not him. There was no reason for him to be jealous of this man's friendship with Warrick. Nick knew that he and Warrick were tight. They were so tight, the considered themselves brothers. No, it couldn't be jealousy.

"Yeah, let's focus on getting this mess cleaned up, before Grissom finds some way to locate us." Warrick nodded, growing worried. The other Immortals wandered off in search of explosives, leaving Warrick with his co-workers.

"Now that I'm not dead anymore, I'd like to go check on Catherine." Greg agreed, leaving the group to help the search.

"Where is Cath?" Warrick called after him, looking concerned.

"Joe took her and the boy to the hospital." Richie answered from the far end of the room. "Greg told him to call your Grissom."

"That wasn't too smart, Greg." Nick frowned. "He and Brass will have Joe rotting in a jail cell by now."

"It was that or have Catherine at the hospital by herself. I couldn't go; I was dead, if you don't remember." Greg defended himself.

"Let's just get this place blown up, and then we will worry about Joe, Cath and Grissom." Warrick cut in.

"Aha!" Adam cried out, having found exactly what he was looking for. Several tanks that wore marked flammable were lined up along one wall. Thumping on the tanks, he could hear that one was still halfway full. "I found it."

"Nick, get Sara out of here." Warrick barked, frowning as something caught his eye. He hurried over to his friend, glaring at a spot on Nick's shirt that was sticking out from under his vest. He fingered the material, growing angrier. "Damn it Nick! You're bleeding!"

"It's just my cut. It started bleeding again." Nick shrugged, having forgotten all about it in the excitement. Now that Warrick reminded him of it, it began to ache again.

"Cut? Shit, Nick, that was more than a cut!" Warrick snarled, his protectiveness flaring once again. Nick grinned back, understanding it a little more than he used to. "Sara, get him out of here and get him to the hospital before he lets himself bleed to death!"

"Aye-aye, Captain!" Nick gave a mock salute before allowing Sara to drag him away. He didn't protest too much, for she seemed to enjoy being in control once again. As they left, he could hear Warrick rambling on about cuts and bleeding. It made him smile. It was good to have the old Warrick back.

**A/N: You didn't really think I would kill Warrick, did you? If so, You really don't know me. I would never really kill my main guy... One more chapter left. Now that the bad guy is dead the team needs to deal with Grissom and have a little closure.**

**Off Topic: Anyone watch the 4400? I'm seriously messing around with the idea of a 4400/CSI crossover. If I do, I'll need a 4400 fan as a beta...**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:**

**Well gang, this is it, Thursday, so that means... The final chapter. The danger has passed, now we need to see how Grissom reacts to all of this.**

**Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me on this one. Elena, you get a super-thanks! You reviewed constantly, giving me the motivation to continue.**

**Actually this has been a blast to write. I really got into this one. I've used and abused the boys enough, now it's time to put them back where they belong. (Not really, I've already started another fic. What can I say? I'm obsessed!) Yes, I "killed" Greg, but he'll "live" since he's immortal. :)**

**This is a little longer because my betas wouldn't let me end it without a little closure. They wanted another chapter, but I couldn't make a complete 30th chapter.**

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The five Immortals stood watching the old factory burn. Thanks to Adam, it was burning well. By the time the fire trucks arrived, the body and all other evidence would be far-gone.

Warrick realized that the three swords he held in his arms would cause some questions. The best idea was to get them out of sight. He held one out to Richie. "Thanks for the use of your sword, Rich."

Richie started to take his broadsword back, but stopped and grimaced. "Eww, Warrick! Could you at least clean it off before you return it? It was clean before you used it. The polite thing would be to return it the same way."

Warrick made a face at the younger man. "Take the damn sword and clean it off yourself, punk!"

"You dirtied it, you clean it!" Richie demanded.

"How do you know that I'm the one that got it dirty? Were you here? NO!" Warrick smirked. "You should know better than to loan your sword out willy-nilly!"

"If you two don't shut up," Duncan cut in. "I'll bash your heads together!"

"He started it." Warrick rolled his eyes.

"I did not! Look what he did to my sword!" Richie pointed to the bloodied blade.

"Warrick, he does have a point. You could wipe it off at least." Adam added dryly before motioned Greg to come away from the group. He felt the need to point out the blood on his collar that would cause questions.

"Sure, take his side!" Warrick grumbled good-naturedly after him. "You always do!"

"Enough!" Duncan roared. "Geez! No wonder we Immortals can't have kids! A lifetime of dealing with squabbles would make you take your own head!"

"Why'd you have to go and find him?" Warrick questioned in a fake whining tone. "I liked it much better being an only child."

"I didn't find him, he found me." Duncan muttered, stalking towards his Thunderbird. Once he climbed inside, he bellowed. "Rich! Get your damn sword and get in this car before the police get here. I'll clean the damn thing!"

Warrick grinned devilishly at Richie, who mirrored him with his own grin. "He gets a little cranky at times. Must be his age."

Richie nodded growing serious. "I would say his bark was worse than his bite, but it would be a lie. Just a note of warning, never spar with him when he's pissed at the world."

"Been there, done that." Warrick chuckled, watching Adam join Duncan in the car. Greg stood a few feet away, looking as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to rejoin the two. He'd removed his shirt and was zipping up his jacket as far as it would go. Warrick nodded, glad that Adam had thought that far away. Turning back to the shorter Immortal, he questioned, "You wanna hang around town for a while, Little Bro? I could use some help training him."

"I think I'd like that." Richie smiled. "Besides, I think he could stir up some trouble now and then. It might be fun!" At the honk of the car, he grabbed the swords and jogged over to hop into the Thunderbird. Duncan barked something at him but Warrick couldn't hear what was said.

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Gil Grissom sat in a familiar place. Everything about this seemed familiar. He sat in a hospital room with Nick sitting in a wheelchair beside him. Nick was the injured one once again. The man had managed to tear open his stitches. This time, it was a little different as Catherine was the one in the hospital bed. She was still under sedation, having been drugged a little too heavily by her abductor. The good news was that she was going to be fine. As soon as she came out of this drug-induced sleep, she would be back to her normal self.

After all this, it amazed him that his team was still in one piece. Sara sat in the chair across from him looking a little haggard and pale, but otherwise fine. Greg shuffled from one foot to another, as if unable to stand still. Gil accepted that, the kid was still just a kid and he was full of nervous energy. He'd evidently been through a lot today.

Gil frowned up at Warrick who was leaning against the wall, as he had done many times before. Warrick looked a little worse for wear. His clothes were covered in black soot from the fire that had evidently destroyed everything. The one thing Gil found strange was that both Warrick and Greg were wearing their jackets inside the building. Not just wearing them, but Greg's was zipped up to his neck. Warrick, in typical Warrick fashion, had his jacket only partway zipped, but he wore no shirt underneath. He was definitely curious to hear how Warrick explained the loss of his shirt.

His team all claimed that the culprit was dead. That Warrick had shot him dead while defending his friends. The body was gone, disintegrated by the intense flames of a chemical explosion. When the rubble had cooled, he would go check it out, but from what he heard it would lead to nothing.

He knew questioning his team would also amount to nothing. He knew them well enough to know that they were keeping something from him, but he also knew that it couldn't be anything bad. He knew them, they weren't the kind to commit a crime and cover it up. If the shooting had been bad, Warrick was the type of guy to own up to it.

No, it was some small detail, something they felt they were protecting him from. Something they felt he was better off not knowing. He brought his attention back to Warrick. Warrick gave him an amused smile. It was a face he trusted.

Trust, that was the key. He needed to decide if he trusted his team enough to accept what they told him. Warrick offered him no excuses for his actions. He had simply repeated that he had done what he felt he needed to do to protect his friends.

Grissom cleared his throat, the silence intensified as everyone looked to him. "You guys have……broken a lot of rules and you've done some things that I don't know about."

"Gris-"Sara tried to interrupt but Gil waved her off.

"Hear me out." He ordered softly. "Look, I don't know half of what went on, but I know you guys enough to know that you did what you had to do. Whatever it was…..it's not for me to know. Somehow, all evidence of tonight's activities has been thoroughly destroyed. I can only go on what you people tell me. I've decided to accept your word. What you guys have told me will go on record and the case will be closed."

"Grissom-" Warrick spoke up only to be sent a silencing glance.

"Now, as for your jobs, I can't do anything about the repercussions from not showing up for work. You will all be treated as anyone would. You will be docked pay. You will be docked vacation days and a black mark will go in your records."

"Grissom!" Warrick growled. "I told you that I would take all the blame for this! You can't punish them for something that I did!"

"Nick won't be affected due to the fact that he was on medical leave." Grissom continued as he ignored the outburst. "Sara, technically, only missed one shift, so it won't be so bad."

Greg swallowed roughly. Nick and Sara had gotten off easy, but that left himself and Warrick to take the brunt of it. Grissom glared at the two, taking in their reactions. Warrick was angry and Greg was shaken.

"Ironically, I had forgotten to submit a request for time off. The paperwork was simply buried on my desk and although it hasn't been filed correctly, it was pre-okayed by me. I merely have to file it correctly and make notations that I was the one to misplace the forms. I distinctly remember having acknowledged that these past days were vacation days for Greg Sanders."

Greg paled; shocked that Grissom would go to such lengths to protect him. The lead CSI had just cleared the way for everyone. Everyone except Warrick. Greg looked nervously at the tall CSI. Warrick didn't look mad. He was smiling at Grissom, relieved.

"Quit smiling at me, Brown." Gil warned. "You're not going to like what I'm about to say. The Higher-ups wanted your immediate dismissal. It took myself and Brass to convince them to keep you on. They agreed, but didn't like the idea of letting you off with just lost pay and vacation days."

"What did they suggest?" Warrick questioned carefully.

"They wanted an investigation. They wanted your job. They wanted a lot of things. Jim and I got them to settle for a demotion."

"I'm being demoted?" Warrick winced. "How bad?"

"You are now CSI Level 2." Grissom announced brusquely. "Your hours will be split between the lab and the field, equally, with no exceptions. And Warrick, one more black mark on your record and you will no longer be eligible to work as a CSI." He walked over to the door, pausing as he opened it. "I expect you all to be at work tomorrow, on time. No excuses."

Warrick was pale as he nodded his understanding. He watched forlornly as his mentor quietly left the room. He felt as if he'd just been kicked in the stomach by steel-toed boots.

He quickly surveyed the room. Catherine was still asleep. Sara was quietly sobbing into a tissue. Nick was glaring angrily at the door Grissom had just used. Greg was staring at him, open mouthed, in shock.

"Don't worry about me guys. I'll spring back. I always do." Warrick pushed away from the wall. "It's been a long day and we need to get some rest. Sara, take Nick back to his room. I don't think Gris will expect him back to work tomorrow since they're keeping him overnight. Greg, I'll take you home. We'll skip tomorrow but from now on, we train before and after work. Every day, no excuses, no exceptions. You are a part of the Game; no one is safe from the Game."

When are you planning on telling me what I saw?" Sara questioned bitterly. "I'm still completely in the dark here!"

"Tomorrow, after shift, we'll meet at my hideout and I'll answer all the questions you have." Warrick promised. "Between my friends and me, we'll be able to explain it all to you."

"So, that's it?" Greg questioned. "I'm….just immortal now? No fancy party or anything?"

"No. We may call it The Game, but it's not something to party over. This is life and death, Greg. You just train until you can fight. Then you train some more. Then you focus on keeping your head." Warrick explained. "And you try to live your life the best you can."

"What about me?" Nick questioned.

"I'm a gambling man. Let's try to beat the odds. Let's try to keep you alive long enough to begin your training." Warrick grinned. "You know, once you become an Immortal, I'll have a lot of free time on my hands. I won't be allowed to save your sorry ass anymore!"

The End

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**What? You didn't want it to end like that? Sigh…..okay just a little bit more for some "closure"**

(Three months later)

"Nick! You're not playing Patty-cake! Attack him! You've got to act like you mean it!" Warrick roared for the tenth time.

Sara looked up from the magazine she was leafing through to watch the two as Warrick rounded on Nick once again. She may not fully understand all that had been explained to her, but she liked the part where she got to watch hot, sweaty guys run around shirtless all the time.

"Damn it, Warrick! I don't mean it! Maybe I just don't feel like pretending to kill him!" Nick threw his sparring stick down onto the mat with such force, it somersaulted across the room until it came in contact with a very large window. The resulting shattering of glass brought Greg to his feet, having been unfortunate enough to have been laying under what was once a window. He pulled his headphones off, shaking the glass fragments off and cursing. Sara hurried over to help pick shards out of Greg.

Warrick glared at the window a moment before turning his heated gaze back to his friend. "Thanks a lot Nick! Do you realize how expensive it is to fix that?"

"I'll pay for it." Nick grumbled, feeling embarrassed but unwilling to show it. "Sorry Greg."

"That's not the point, Nick." Warrick's voice lowered dangerously. "If you won't take this seriously, you might as well just offer up you head right now."

"I'm just tired of all this!" Nick growled. "You have me hitting at people with sticks! I feel like a little kid! Hell, You gave Greg an actual sword a month ago! Why do I still have to play with sticks? I'm trying to train just as much as he does?"

"Greg doesn't have the luxury of time to train properly like you do. He's Immortal! If someone comes after him, I can't interfere, he has to be prepared. He has to be able to defend himself!"

"Shouldn't I be able to defend myself?"

"You should, but….you don't seem to want to take this seriously. You haven't been able to disarm Richie once. I know you, Nick! You can do this, if you try!"

Nick glared at Warrick, seeing the conflict in the green eyes. Warrick was worried about him as much as he was pissed at him. With a sigh, he nodded. "Okay. You're right. I haven't really been giving it my all. I will tomorrow, I promise."

"Okay, as penance, you have to go pluck glass out of Greg's butt." Warrick sniggered upon seeing mirrored looks of horror from both men.

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"So what ever happened to that kid?" Richie asked Warrick as they watched the two CSI's picking glass out of Greg while the wounded party whined and complained.

"Coy really messed with his head. He's in therapy. It doesn't help that he claims he shot and killed both you and Greg. They think he's delusional."

"Poor kid." Richie sighed, thinking of how little the boy was.

"He'll have it rough, I mean, he killed his own brother. Like he wasn't already screwed up enough after watching the sick freak mutilate his mother?" Warrick shook his head, wishing he could go back and prevent it all from happening. That kid deserved to have a normal life. Greg deserved to live longer as a regular person.

"You aren't responsible for any of this." Richie told him, reading his thoughts. "There was nothing you could have done to stop this. The weight of the world doesn't rest on you shoulders alone."

"I know, but…..sometimes life just sucks." Warrick grinned. "And then you don't die."


End file.
